Harry Potter and the Rise of Lord Voldemort
by Saranimal
Summary: Voldemort's risen again in Harry's fifth year... and Gryffindor house is being targeted with tormenting curses. Can Harry catch the culprit before they suceed in killing someone? R&R, Quidditch, Voldie, and a bit of loooove, what else could you ever need?
1. Escape Via Flossing Stringmints ?

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter one  
  
This is my version of book five, and even though JK Rowling owns all Harry Potter characters and ideas, (darnit!) this plot and some spells and magical procedures I've created on my own just from this dusty old brain here. Who would'a thunk it?!  
  
So anyways, this is book five, so just keep in mind what happened in bks 1-4 and you'll understand everything all right. Unless of course you're utterly moronic, then nothing can help you. ;)  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry Potter was looking back on one of his most successful birthdays yet. He not only got presents from Ron, Hermione, Sirius and Hagrid as usual, but Fleur Delacour, Viktor Krum, and even Remus Lupin sent him gifts. And the Dursley's had given Harry his best birthday present they could: he was spending his summer at The Burrow.  
  
It was an accident, really. Harry had found a package of Flossing Stringmints in his pocket one day, about a week after he arrived home on Privet Drive. Already lonesome for the magical world, Harry popped one in his mouth. Of course Uncle Vernon walked in on his savoring the minty taste, and fearing another beating for having the "M" word in the house, Harry quickly spat out the mint, still flossing away, and for lack of anything better to do he sat on it. That was mistake number one.  
  
Mistake number two involved the fact that Flossing Stringmints aren't meant to be taken out mid-floss, and the little guy must've gotten a little peeved at being interrupted. The thing kept right on flossing, straight through the Dursley's new couch, through the floor, and was halfway through the water pipes before Harry could catch it. It wouldn't have taken nearly as long if Harry had his wand, but it was locked under the cupboard under the stairs like all of his Hogwarts things. And in a few short moments Harry joined them.  
  
"INSOLENT BOY! YOU KNOW THE RULES, NO MAG -" Harry's uncle bellowed, but the shouting was cut off by the sound of the water pipe bursting. Harry couldn't believe his luck.  
  
It took Harry six hours to stop the spewing pipe, patch the floor, and make arrangements to reupholster the sofa. But in the long run, it was worth it. "It's off to summer camp with you. You're too much trouble, brat. Don't know why we haven't done it before." Uncle Vernon said to Harry through his newspaper. Harry knew why they'd never done it before, though. That would make Harry happy, and the Dursley's despised doing anything that made him happy. But this time he'd made them just mad enough for them to forget that little detail.  
  
Harry had one day to pack. With just two suitcases, he managed to cram all his Hogwarts supplies in there, along with a few pieces of clothing. If his plan worked, he'd never have to see Camp Beatum & Zreem.  
  
Harry sent out his owl Hedwig as soon as he could, writing a letter to Ron explaining his sentence. He knew that Ron and the twins wouldn't be able to keep themselves from rescuing him, but he had to do it without the Dursley's knowing. "Hurry back, girl. This is very important." Harry told her, and she nodded before flying off into the sky.  
  
The morning Harry left for camp, the whole house looked merrier than a bunch of cherubs. Uncle Vernon was whistling, Aunt Petunia was wearing extra make-up which made her look like a Picasso, and Dudley broke three of his new toys he'd gotten for his sixteenth birthday. It was an utterly joyous household, Harry included.  
  
Camp Beatum & Zreem was located on the same miserable body of water Uncle Vernon had moved the family to in a desperate attempt to avoid the Postal Service (read book one if you still don't understand). It wasn't that far away, and after winding down a gloomy gravel road for a couple minutes a gray lodge popped up among the gray greenery.  
  
Harry could see that there was a mysterious looking car parked in the parking lot. It was old and blue, but that wasn't the mysterious part. Every inch of the back fender was covered in bumper stickers. Slogans of "I Like Ike" and "Ask me about Mary Kay" overlapped each other. This was no muggle car.  
  
"Nasty white trash filth." Uncle Vernon stated cheerily in the direction of the car. The Dursley's stopped in front of the lodge, Harry and his bags were thrown out, and then their car sped off again. Harry could just hear Uncle Vernon whistling madly above the roar of the motor.  
  
Gathering up his things and dusting himself off, Harry approached the laughable attempt at a muggle car. "Ron, Fred, George? Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked the car. Immediately four flaming-red heads popped up in the windows.  
  
"Harry!" Ron said, opening the back door and letting him in. "It's great to see you again."  
  
"How are you doing, Harry?" Ron's dad asked from the driver's seat.  
  
"Fine, thanks. Nice car you've got here, Mr. Weasley." Harry replied.  
  
"Well, had to replace the old one sometime. Never know when you might need to go undercover in the muggle world." Mr. Weasley answered, patting the dashboard lovingly. Yeah, right. Harry knew the real reason he got another car. Arthur Weasley loved muggle artifacts, anything run by 'eckletricity,' as he called it. Non-magical things seemed quite magical to him.  
  
"Wait till we get to the house. We've got something to show you." Fred whispered, and George nodded emphatically. Harry guessed it was something to do with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  
  
The car ride was surprisingly short, and Harry figured Mr. Weasley had tweaked a few things around magically to make them go faster, or farther, or teleport or something. Harry wouldn't put it past him. In ten minutes they were parked in front of The Burrow, the delightfully run-down and ramshackle house that had rooms stacked haphazardly on top of one another.  
  
"We're home!" Mr. Weasley announced proudly, and led everyone into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were sitting at the table, along with -  
  
"Hedwig!" Harry gasped, rushing over to her. It was all thanks to her that Harry wasn't being used as an oar to row a boat right now.  
  
"Arrived at the crack of dawn this morning, hooted and made such a ruckus that woke the whole house up. Must've flown all night." Mrs. Weasley proclaimed. Harry pulled out a sack of Owl Treats from his suitcase and placed them all on the table before her. He couldn't be prouder, or more thankful, to her.  
  
Ron helped Harry cart his things up the stairs, reporting the summer activities of his older brothers. "Charlie's off with his dragon's as usual; and Harry, Bill's gotten married! Real nasty surprise to Mum and Dad, let me tell you." Ron explained, whipping out a picture of the happy couple. Bill waved vigorously back at Harry, long red hair slicked back and a diamond stud in his ear. Arm in arm with Bill was a spunky-looking girl, a bit plump with short curly blonde hair and one of the broadest smiles Harry had ever seen. They both looked ecstatic.  
  
"He met her when she opened a new account at Gringotts. Turns out her family's LOADED, and the account was so big they had to bring in an official to register it. So Bill walked in, their eyes met, and the rest is history. Or at least that's how he broke it to Mum and Dad." Ron explained. 'Good for him,' Harry thought. The Weasley's were so poor, they could certainly use some rich relatives.  
  
"Her name's Courtney Crinkle, but Bill calls her Corky. Isn't that sickening?" Ron commented.  
  
"Quite. What about Percy?" Harry asked.  
  
"Oh, you don't even want to know. When Crouch was fired, Percy was bumped up to Assistant Magical Games and Sports Commissioner. He has no responsibilities whatsoever besides bringing the new commissioner Atrilla McBoisen her coffee." Ron didn't look disappointed in the least about his brother's change in profession.  
  
"Harry! Harry, come here for a sec." George said, poking his head out the door when Harry and Ron passed by the twins' room.  
  
"It's okay, I'll meet you upstairs in a second. I don't envy you Harry, they're probably going to use you to test one of their new concoctions." Ron said, and turned to walk up to his room.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked as he entered Fred and George's room.  
  
"With the money you gave us, we opened a kiosk in Diagon Alley for the summer. Mum and Dad think we're just stocking shelves at Flourish and Blotts or something, but we're making a ton of money!" George described excitedly.  
  
"The Canary Creams seem to be our most popular seller, but we're looking for a new gag. So far we've got your basic Ton-Tongue Toffees, Sneezer Suckers, Popping Pastries, and the Bellowing Bare-Claw." Fred told Harry.  
  
"What's a 'Bellowing Bare-Claw?'" Harry inquired, having a feeling he didn't want to know.  
  
"Oh, that was my invention," George said, beaming. "When you take a bite of the Bare-Claw, all of your clothes jump off your body and scream. Of course we sell two different versions, the Expose-all Bellowing Bare- Claw and the more PG-13 version. We've decided only to sell the latter at Hogwarts, so then there'll at least be knickers instead of the Full Monty."  
  
"How considerate of you." Harry remarked. But judging by the state the room was in, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes seemed to be doing really well; there were order forms and boxes containing littering the floor.  
  
Harry left the twins to their business and climbed the remaining flight to Ron's room. "Nice to see you featherless." He greeted.  
  
"Ditto." Harry replied.  
  
"So, how are you? Really, Harry, how're you taking, er, everything?" Ron asked. He looked uncomfortable mentioning the horrible clash with Voldemort that Harry had barely survived. Fragments of thought and memory flashed before Harry's eyes. Cedric Diggory lying dead, Wormtail cutting off his own hand. his mother and father floating as a mist from Voldemort's wand.  
  
"Dandy." Harry replied to Ron's bright orange Chudley Cannon rug. That wasn't a very respectable answer to such a question, but the wounds were still raw.  
  
"Heard from Sirius lately?" Ron asked, unfazed by Harry's answer.  
  
"Yeah, he's been traveling everywhere since Dumbledore told him to go off and alert 'the old crowd.' Him and Lupin, along with a handful of others, are meeting with Dumbledore next month sometime." Harry recounted from Sirius's last letter, which he received the day he got back from Hogwarts. It was very brief, he'd written it on the road, and basically told Harry to stay out of trouble and write if his scar hurt again.  
  
"Gosh, I just can't believe You-Know-Who's back. When he was in power fifteen years ago, Mum called it 'The Dark Days.' Do you think it'll be like that again?" Ron whispered. Harry tried to think out a literal answer, but it made his head hurt with impending doom.  
  
"Well, Dumbledore's out there trying his best to make sure that doesn't happen. And we're in pretty good hands if he's in charge." Harry answered at length. Most people considered Albus Dumbledore to be the greatest wizard of all time, and there must be a reason he was the only person Voldemort feared. The question was, would even Dumbledore be able to defeat the Dark Lord this time?  
  
* * * * *  
  
Chapter one was kind of a place-the-setting, preparation chapter, and I swear things're going to get REALLY super interesting next chapter, and the chapter after that, and the chapter after that. yeah, I'm planning on making this one L O N G story, so get ready for a lot of super interesting stuff.  
  
Please review me, I dunno if this is an original storyline or if I should just quit now and go hide under a rock somewhere. I know there are forty thousand some-odd Harry Potter stories, and I would be honored to be in the top twenty thousand or so. ;)  
  
Thanks bundles for reading my stuff. This story is really fun to write, so I think I'm up to punching out a chapter every day or two. That is, if people'll actually read it! So lemme know.  
  
SaRaNiMaL HaloGal5@aol.com if you wanna email or IM me. 


	2. Diagon Alley

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Two  
  
By the by, these characters are Rowling's and the big copyright monster might come along and eat me if I don't say that. Now, onward towards great literature! READ:  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next morning the Weasley's decided it was high time they took a pleasure trip to Diagon Alley. There were so many shops and boutiques that they never got to check out when there was school shopping to do, and Mr. Weasley was going over there to pick up a few things for work anyway. They might as well make a weekend of it.  
  
"I've already owled Hermione telling her to meet us at The Leaky Cauldron at two. Said for me to tell you she's bringing along 'someone who's been tied up for awhile.' What's that about?" Mrs. Weasley said. Harry eyes met Ron's, and they were both thinking the same thing: Rita Skeeter. Hermione had captured the eavesdropping Animagus beetle in a jar with an Unbreakable Charm on it, to teach the witch a thing or two about playing fair.  
  
They traveled by Floo Powder to The Leaky Cauldron, a form of transportation that Harry was not at all fond of. He got soot in his mouth and broke his glasses, which Mr. Weasley repaired in a snap.  
  
"Hermione and her parents should be here any second." Mr. Weasley said, handing Harry back his unscarred specs. The seven of them stood looking intently at the fireplace they just came from, waiting patiently.  
  
"What's so interesting? Perrill the chimney sweeper boy get stuck again?" asked Hermione's voice right behind Harry's ear. The lot of them jumped ten feet into the air.  
  
"Hermione, you scared the bejesus out of me!" Ron exclaimed, clapping his hand over his heart and rolling his eyes in exasperation.  
  
"What were you doing?" she asked.  
  
"Looking for you, of course!" Fred answered.  
  
"In the chimney?" she said, not quite getting it.  
  
"No. well, actually yes, but it's not as ridiculous as you think. We thought you were coming by Floo Powder. C'mon, this could take a while." Mr. Weasley replied, pumping Hermione for more fascinating information about chimney sweepers while she asked about Floo Powder. It certainly DID take a while.  
  
Diagon Alley was even better when you were able to investigate every nook and cranny thoroughly. The first store that caught the group's eye was Bags by Hags, which sold any bag, sack, or bundle imaginable. Harry, still slightly new to the magical world, marveled at the purses that changed color to match your shoes and bags that spat up the item when you called it by name.  
  
"Hey Harry, come look at this!" George said, beckoning him over to where he and Fred were drooling over something in a lighted case.  
  
It looked like an ordinary wicker wallet to Harry. He looked down and read the plaque placed next to it: FENKER'S FABULOUS FOLDABLE FACILITY. This seemingly tiny wallet-sized marvel can fold out into the size of a corporate building. Stash your supplies, fold, and go! Perfect for the traveling entrepreneur.  
  
"Harry, this is it! We've been looking for a way to sell Weasley's Wizard Wheezes at Hogwarts, and old Fenker here has the solution!" Fred buzzed excitedly. Harry didn't even qualify as a traveling entrepreneur and he wanted one. The thing was too cool. But the coolness suddenly wore off when he took a look at the price tag. 500 Galleons! Even for Harry, who had a small fortune, that was expensive. He hated to say it, but for the Weasley twins that amount of money would be nearly impossible.  
  
After the trip to Bags by Hags, Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley wanted to stop by Wendy Witches Wardrobes, a store for trendy women's apparel. This obviously held no interest whatsoever with the boys, so Mr. Weasley let them go to Quality Quidditch Supplies while he got the things he needed for work.  
  
"And no going anywhere else. Knockturn Alley is out of the question, boys." Mr. Weasley emphasized, looking at Fred and George.  
  
"What is it that you could be implying, o father of mine?" George asked innocently, clasping his hands together angelically.  
  
"Certainly it is to your knowledge that we'd never think of committing such a dastardly deed, Daddy!" Fred put in, batting his eyes and grinning cheesily at his father. Mr. Weasley didn't buy any of it though, and waggled his finger at the mischievous duo before walking off.  
  
Harry couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts and start the Gryffindor Quidditch Season, last year the Quidditch Pitch stood empty all term because of the TriWizard Tournament. How much easier life would have been if the tournament had never taken place, and Harry would've only had to worry about beating Cedric Diggory in a game. Of course, that's just what everyone thought the TriWizard Tournament was. a game.  
  
But the smell of broomstick handle polish always put Harry in a good mood, and after a few minutes George, Fred, and him were planning out some new Gryffindor team plays. Ron even joined in a bit; he was hoping to nail a position as Chaser when Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson graduated next year. Harry picked up a couple of books on Quidditch to read during the school year, they helped him relax and he was definitely going to need some relaxation that year.  
  
That night, as everyone was getting ready for bed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally got a chance to be alone. "She's been quite the little pest lately." Hermione said ironically, taking out the little jar containing the former journalist Rita Skeeter and placing her on the table before Harry and Ron.  
  
"So you've really just been keeping her in there like that?" Ron asked. "Don't you think that's bordering on cruelty, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione shot him a look. "Well, all those things she wrote about Harry and I were cruel, so this is just payback. I'm teaching her a life- lesson here, Ronald, and frankly I think that constitutes a bit of necessary cruelty here and there." Ron knew to back off when she used his full name.  
  
"Teach me to contradict the great Hermione Granger." Ron muttered under his breath in Harry's direction when she wasn't looking. Harry snorted, and had to turn his head and cough to avoid a beating from Hermione.  
  
Rita Skeeter didn't look like a happy camper. The little beetle crawled back and forth on a twig, munching on a raspberry and occasionally stopping to glare at her spectators. "When're you gonna let her out?" Ron asked in a whimper.  
  
"When I go to visit Viktor next week. I figure a vacation in Bulgaria might do her some good." She replied. At the mention of his former opponent, Harry's gaze was jerked from the jar.  
  
"How is Krum? He sent me an early birthday present a couple days ago." Harry asked.  
  
"He's coping all right, still has some side affects every now and then from being under the Imperius Curse, but the doctor says he's getting better," Hermione related. Harry shuddered, remembering the horrible sight of Viktor Krum uttering the word CRUCIO, and Cedric Diggory screaming from the curse of pure pain. But Viktor hadn't been acting under his own influences, which Harry later found out to his great relief, but had been ordered to do so by the Imperius Curse. "You said he sent you a present for your birthday, Harry?" Hermione asked, jerking Harry from his memory.  
  
"Oh, yeah. A book of Quidditch plays and moves. He dog-eared the 'Wrongski Feint' for me." Harry told the two. Ron still looked a bit red around the ears whenever Krum's name was mentioned; the Bulgarian's love affair with Hermione nearly drove him over the edge. However, Harry had seen Viktor's autograph hanging in on the wall in Ron's room. He had the sneaking suspicion that Ron might have been jealous of Krum. nah. Ron and Hermione were just friends.  
  
"You hear that, Rita ol' girl? Just one more week until you're free!" Harry stated, addressing the jar. The beetle just paced up and down on it's twig, as if to say "Well, what's wrong with right now?"  
  
The weekend was fabulous. So many stores awaited the group that they had barely investigated a whole block before it was dinnertime again. Watching Hermione's parents, Harry noticed that they were adjusting to the wizarding world quite well. Her father carried around a pouch full of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, and seemed to understand their value well enough. Her mother even bought a small handbag from Bags by Hags, that never filled no matter how much stuff you put into it.  
  
"We've found out that my Great-Aunt Enid is a halfie, so that must be where I get it. My father even got tested by the ministry to see if he was lucky enough to get a bit of magical blood, and he was! Just a drop or two, mind you, but he was ecstatic all the same. kept humming showtunes to himself until Mum threw a hairbrush at him." Hermione elaborated when Harry asked her about it.  
  
They were just walking out of Eeylops Owl Emporium when Harry saw a black dog sitting in an alleyway, wagging it's tail furiously with an old copy of The Daily Prophet in it's mouth. Could it be. ?  
  
"Snuffles?" Harry called to the dog, and it barked (muffled by the newspaper) and Harry broke away from the group, running over to greet his Godfather. After many wet doggie kisses, the Animagus nudged the newspaper towards Harry. Unfolding it, Harry could see "Midnight, in the Parlor Room." scrawled in Sirius's unmistakable handwriting in the corner of the front page.  
  
"I'll be there." Harry whispered as he bent down to scratch the dog behind his ears. With one last wag of his tail, the dog disappeared down the crowded streets.  
  
Constantly interested in current events, Hermione took the newspaper from Harry's hand and began to read. Thankfully she didn't notice the note in the corner of the page.  
  
"Quidditch World Cup to be held in Iceland this year, too bad, Bulgaria lost in the semi-finals. muggle led astray by mischievous hinkypunk, close call. oh, look!" Hermione was reading the headlines aloud but suddenly stopped abruptly in her tracks. Harry and Ron peered over her shoulder to see what the fuss was about.  
  
Her thumb was on an article entitled 'Respected Family Caught in Dark Artifact Scandal.' "Last week the Ministry searched the Malfoy residence for Dark items, seemingly to no avail. But after a tip off from a trusty informant, officials searched beneath the Drawing Room floor and found a trapdoor leading to a small cellar. There they found relics long since thought destroyed or lost, one such example being the Palette of Wryne." Ron and Hermione gasped at the mention of this item, which of course sounded totally foreign to Harry.  
  
"Why? What's the Palette of Wryne?" He asked, gazing at their horrorstruck faces.  
  
"Perhaps the worst enchanted muggle artifact in the world." Ron answered.  
  
"It's a special palette of paints, and when used to paint a portrait, whether it be person or object, magic or no, whatever was painted in the portrait will vanish from the face of the earth." Hermione said, no doubt quoting some huge book she's read somewhere.  
  
"If I remember correctly, a mad wizard painter created it to rid some obscure country of it's ruler. He walked into the palace, saying that he was going to paint a portrait of the queen, and then he walks out of the palace five hours later with a beautiful painting under his arm, and the queen was never seen again. The painting was found some hundred years later though, and is sitting in the Abuse of Muggle Artifacts office somewhere waiting until someone discovers a counter-curse." Ron put in. Harry and Hermione stared at him, shocked looks on their faces. Ron never paid attention in History, never read any sort of book not involving quidditch, and all of a sudden whips this account of the past from under his hat! "My dad told me." He said, in an answer to the pair's silent question. They nodded, that explained it.  
  
"So, the Malfoy's finally got busted. Ha! I'd love to see the look on Draco's face now, all that nonsense about purebloods and flawless superiority. THAT doesn't fit the definition of 'pure,' if you ask me." Hermione commented, looking into the sky trying to picture it. Draco had ridiculed her nonstop about being muggle-born, so this was good news to hear.  
  
Harry and Ron grinned at each other, having been called "trusty informants." They were the ones who tipped Mr. Weasley off about what was hiding beneath the Malfoy's drawing room floor, heard it straight from Draco's mouth when they used the Polyjuice Potion and transformed into Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
"But Lucius denied it all, calling them 'priceless relics' and such. Though only a half-wit would believe that after looking at his record." Hermione said, finishing the section. Skimming the remainder of the newspaper, she only found one more thing that caught her attention.  
  
"Sounds like you're involved in another article, Harry. Says here that a journalist for Witch Weekly has gone missing, but they're not too worried about it since she was costing them a fortune in libel suits anyhow." Hermione read from the very back page, where all the unimportant stories were stashed. They all had a good laugh about that.  
  
After a filling dinner, everyone had to pack up and get ready to leave in the morning. "You'll be back soon enough, in a couple of months." Mr. Weasley comforted. But at least the packing kept everyone busy upstairs, leaving the Leaky Cauldron's parlor room empty for Harry's midnight meeting.  
  
At ten minutes till twelve Harry stole downstairs and sat in the corner of the parlor, next to the fireplace. Sure enough, at midnight on the dot, a whooshing sound followed by a soft PLOP sounded in the chimney and Sirius Black stepped into the room.  
  
Harry immediately ran up and gave his Godfather a hug. It had been too long since he'd last seen him. "How are you, Harry?" he asked. Sirius's voice was filled with weariness, but love and joy seemed to work their way in there as well.  
  
"I'm doing all right. And no, my scar hasn't hurt me yet and I haven't had any visions," Harry answered, reading the next question on Sirius' tongue. "How are things with you?"  
  
Black sighed. "I'm finally done rounding up the 'old crowd.' Nelson Lecht, Beorson Mitchell, Heather O'Rourke. basically all of the Gryffindor's from my class. And now we're off to hunt basically all of the Slytherin's from my class. It's horrible. Last week some aurors caught a bunch of Death Eaters that were in my DEFENSE Against the Dark Arts class. saw 'em shipped off to Azkaban myself. It's strange, Harry, to think that all these innocent young faces I saw in school, naïve and eager to learn, twenty years later are guilty and evil." His speech brought one face in particular to Harry's mind: Draco Malfoy's. Of course, Harry had never seen him innocent or particularly eager to learn.  
  
"So, how is it that you found my hiding place, Sirius?" Harry asked brightly, changing the subject.  
  
"Ah Harry, Snuffles snuffled you out this time. Actually, I got an owl from Dumbledore saying you escaped from the Dursley's and the Weasley's took you in." Sirius explained.  
  
Harry sputtered. "Dumbledore knows where I am? But how?"  
  
"Harry Potter, you've always got somebody watching you. Now, especially, Dumbledore wanted you protected." Sirius told Harry. It was really creepy to know that wherever you went, there would be eyes taking in every move you made. Of course, friendly eyes were much better than eyes belonging to Voldemort. Harry felt a little safer, and just a little weirded out.  
  
After relaying the whole adventure of dodging out of Camp Beatum & Zreem, and what Fred and George had been up to recently, it had been nearly an hour and Harry's eyelids began to droop. "You should go to bed now, it's not safe to travel by Floo Powder if you're mind is clouded with sleep. Goodnight Harry, and write me if anything happens. Anything at all." His godfather ordered, and lightly kissed Harry on the forehead. Throwing a fine dust on the fire, Sirius Black leapt in and was gone.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Okay, so I lied. Maybe the action won't pick up yet, but I swear Harry will get to Hogwarts in Chapter Three and all will be well and interesting. Of course, I hope things already are!  
  
And a gigantic thank you to Rose Rovente for being the first (and only) to review! I agree, why *ISN'T * anyone reading this? ... tell your friends! And random strangers passing by on the street!  
  
READ MY STORY MORE PLEASE!!  
  
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com 


	3. Hogwarts for Fifth Year

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Three  
  
A/N: Okay, now, THIS TIME I promise that the plot will develop and you'll get obsessively hooked into my weavings of a story. sounds sinister, huh?  
  
* author asks genie if she could own Harry Potter*.. Genie says NOO!! * author cries inconsolably.* SIGH, so yeah, obviously I don't own these characters and whatnot, but the sad innerworkings of my brain have exhausted themselves in producing this scheme. So you besta enjoy it, punk! Now, off you go to begin. NICE readers obeying my every whim. now if I could only get you to review.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Back at The Burrow once again, the remainder of Harry's summer flew by. Hermione went off to visit her Krum soon after they left London, and owled Harry and Ron as soon as she got there.  
  
Dear Harry and Ron, How are your summers going? Bulgaria is simply fascinating! Did you know that Boris the Baffled and Willis the Whiney were native Bulgarians? Like I said, simply fascinating! Viktor's been taking me to all the wizard tourist attractions and behaving like a perfect gentleman.  
  
I only hope you two can say the same.  
  
I let Rita go shortly after I got off the plane, and boy was she mad! But of course I nicely explained to her that if she didn't keep her nose out of making things up about other people's business, I'd reveal the fact that she'd been an illegal Animagi and the Ministry wouldn't be too happy about that.  
  
I can't wait until term starts again! I know for a fact that you two aren't doing your homework, but please keep in mind that we're taking our O.W.L.S. this year and it wouldn't look good if you start out by not doing your assignments. Just something to think about.  
  
Love from,  
  
Hermione  
  
She'd also sent a lovely picture of Viktor standing in front of his house with his arm around her, which Ron promptly tore in half and threw away. The two halves of the photo made rude gestures at Ron from the dustbin.  
  
"Now that's no way to behave, Ronald!" Harry scolded, impersonating Hermione's voice perfectly. Taking out his wand he mended the picture and stuck it inside his cloak. If Ron didn't want it, he'd take it.  
  
Harry really bonded with the Weasley family over the two months. He quickly became a favorite victim of the twins' merciless pranks, sometimes bursting into feathers six times a day. Thankfully, he never got a hold of a Bare-Claw; though he thought Ginny tried to slip him a PG-13 rated one with his breakfast. She still blushed scarlet whenever he looked at her, which was quite often. She was growing up tall and lanky like Ron, and her curly red hair seemed to have found a way to tame itself, it wasn't an unruly poofball anymore. Harry wanted to know her secret, that was a feat he'd been trying to accomplish all his life.  
  
It seemed like no time at all before they was standing in front of the magical wall leading into Diagon Alley once again. And this time around it must have been twice as crowded. Parents and students bustled to and fro, gathering needed equipment for their classes. Pulling out their supply lists, Harry and Ron read:  
  
UNIFORM:  
  
Fifth year students will require: Three sets of plain work robes (black, or house colors if desired) One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) One set of dress robes  
  
Ron pointed out the last item on that list. "You'll be happy to know, Harry, that Mum bought me some new dress robes. And not maroon! Midnight blue, with crescent moons on the fastenings. Really spiffy, new and everything." Harry raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Your mum did, eh?" he asked.  
  
"Well, the box was left on my bed and I found it there, no note or anything, but when I thanked Mum she totally denied it. Said it might be from a relative, and they just dropped it off and left. Yeah, right. Like that could ever happen." Ron explained. Harry only smiled and patted his friend on the back supportively. They read on down the list:  
  
COURSE BOOKS:  
  
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5) by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch Dangerously Difficult Potions (And Their Antidotes) by Simmarus Draught Tiptoe Through the Mandrakes and Other Magical Flora by Daisy Greene BOO! A Guide to Defending Yourself Against the Undead by Shamus McDuffed The Rise and Fall of The Dark Lord by Jiminy Za'loush  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, George, Fred, Harry, and Ron all managed to fit themselves in Flourish & Blotts, though not comfortably, to get their course books.  
  
"Ah, The Rise and Fall of The Dark Lord, not the first copy I've sold today. Hogwarts, boys?" the clerk asked. Harry and Ron both nodded. "You know, I don't see why they'd want to teach this in schools. We've spent the last fifteen years trying to forget those days, and now the young have to study it? Seems a bit contradictory and pointless to me." 'Amazing how clueless the public is.' Harry thought to himself, as he paid the man for his books and walked out of the crowded store.  
  
After acquiring an Advanced Potions Kit from the Apothecary, it was time for a pick-me-up at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Florean Fortescue himself was an acquaintance of Harry's, and gave the lot of them free sundae's. Harry didn't think he had ever paid that man for an ice cream in his life.  
  
August 31. just one more day before they would leave for Hogwarts. Harry's, and at that rate basically everyone's, insides tingled with anticipation.  
  
It took four tries before they were finally off to Platform Nine and Three- Quarters the next morning. But, delay's and all, they arrived with a whole five minutes to spare. Nonchalantly they passed one by one through the hidden barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten, where the Hogwarts Express was waiting for them. Mrs. Weasley got all teary-eyed as she kissed each of her boys on the cheek, Harry included. After all, she did a better job of mothering him than Aunt Petunia ever did. Or ever wanted to do.  
  
Slowly the gears of the train cranked and turned, sending the passengers on towards school. Harry, Ron, and Hermione found a compartment to themselves and sat down, but they weren't alone for long.  
  
"Potter. Weasley. Granger. I've waited all summer for this." A snaky, silky voice said as it's owner thrust open the curtain. Draco Malfoy stood at the doorway, flanked by his cronies Crabbe and Goyle. Last time those three had showed up they were left lying facedown on the floor, a jumble of hexes having been cast upon them at once. Draco had obviously been fermenting all summer, and was ready for his return attack.  
  
Without warning, Malfoy whipped out his wand and sent a spell flying at Harry. He only just dodged it in time. Apparently unfazed, Malfoy let another one loose not a second later. Diving to the floor and grabbing his wand at once, Harry yelled "Engorgio!" His aim was right on the money, causing Malfoy's nose to balloon in front of his face, blinding him. He dropped his wand in an effort to hold down his ever-growing schnozzle, and Ron dived to the floor and grabbed it right before Crabbe's fat foot tried to step on it. Unfortunately, his foot came crunching down on Ron's hand instead.  
  
"YEOWCH!!!" Ron bellowed, jerking his hand away but still clutching the wand. Hermione, with her cool head, muttered the counter-curse and Malfoy's snout returned to normal. Then she gently took the wand from Ron's injured hand.  
  
"Now, if you please, take this thing and leave." Hermione said, holding Malfoy's wand out to him. Ron and Harry couldn't believe she'd been that stupid, to let him have it back, but there was nothing they could do. The Slytherin sneered at her, then pointed his wand and out came a spell. That is, out it came through the other end of his wand. The hex hit him in the stomach, and a look of confusion and utter rage came over Malfoy's face before he started singing the national anthem uncontrollably in a womanly opera-style voice. There was a stunned silence before Harry and Ron broke out into an insanely happy fit of giggles, Malfoy serenading them all the while. He tried clamping his jaw shut, but the voice only got louder. He tried to run away, but his feet seemed glued to the floor. Obviously, the spell was unstoppable.  
  
After a couple of verses people started peering out of their compartments to stare at the scene, and were in much the same state as Harry and Ron. A bright red Malfoy clamped his hands over his mouth, which of course did nothing to silence it, and the song played on. After trilling the last few syllables expertly and holding the final note for a full thirty seconds, Malfoy gained control of his vocal chords once more. But he didn't use them. He gave Hermione a fish like stare, then turned on his heel and ran to the very back compartment, hounded by the resounding applause that followed.  
  
Ron, after having gaped down the corridor for long enough, walked over to Hermione and shook her hand vigorously. "That was amazing. Wonderful. Astounding. How did you do that? Spell, charm, hex, that's some pretty strong magic you've got there, Hermione."  
  
"Just a simple Confundus Charm, boys. Confused his wand enough so that it shot the spell at it's owner. But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it turning out that well." explained Hermione humbly. Chalk it up to her being the smartest kid in her grade, Harry thought.  
  
The ride went by very quickly, what with impressions of Malfoy and all being done it felt like mere seconds before the train began to slow and the magnificent castle loomed up ahead. The three friends heard the familiar call of "Firs' years, over 'ere!" by Hagrid as the scared youngsters loaded up into boats. It struck Harry as odd that just a short time ago, he was the one being ushered into those boats. He'd grown up so much since then, and in more ways than one. UP was certainly right; this year even the tallest newcomers didn't even reach to Harry's shoulders. He was quickly becoming one of the tallest boys in his class.  
  
Sitting in the Great Hall and catching up with old friends, the loud hum of conversation was silenced when Professor McGonagall entered with the first years to be sorted. Most of them looked terrified, much like they did every time. The battered hat sat expectantly on a stool in front of the Head Table. After it had commanded a silence from the knowing upperclassmen, and newcomers that soon followed suit, it opened it's brim wide and sang the sorting song:  
  
The Sorting Hat's quite scratched and torn, Dirty, smelly, stained and worn. Haven't your Mummies ever said "Don't judge by looks, but smarts instead!" This old hat you see sittin' here You place it up around your ears And it'll have a peek inside And see which house you're to abide. Gryffindor contains the bold Nerves of steel their hearts do hold. Though Hufflepuff may take the meek, Also justice and faith they seek. In Ravenclaw dwell the wise, Knowledge and learning are their prize. And in crafty Slytherin Power dominates therin. I promise I'll make no mistake And after just a short debate I'll call it out With a great shout Where you will unearth your fate!  
  
After the initial shock of a talking hat wore off, the first years seemed to enjoy the song. Some even bobbed their heads in time to the rhythm. A thunderous applause punctuated the ending, and The Sorting had begun.  
  
"Adelade, Kira" Professor McGonagall barked out, and the tiny blonde scurried over and sat on the stool. Seconds later, in a commanding voice that far rivaled McGonagall's, the hat yelled "RAVENCLAW!" Two tables down, Harry saw Cho Chang greet their new member. His face burned and he quickly turned away, just as "Babburn, Tony" was named Hufflepuff. The poor Hufflepuff table. even after all this time, you could still see the solemn looks of sadness on some of their faces about Cedric's death. Professor Sprout had dedicated her best greenhouse to him, being head of Hufflepuff House she had taken the tradgedy especially hard.  
  
The announcement of "Boyle, Beauford." as a "SLYTHERIN!" jerked Harry's attention back to the present. He watched the boy being welcomed by the Bloody Baron, a thing he didn't seem to like much. The sorting was much more fun when you got to be a part of it, Harry thought decidedly as "Freeston, Nancy" was named the first new Gryffindor. He clapped along with the rest of the table nicely, and for the first time noticed the new teacher sitting at the Staff Table. She must have been the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. That would fit, because Professor Snape was favoring her with a particularly nasty look. Poor guy, he'd been ousted from the position for the fifth year running. Harry got the sinking feeling that Potions was going to be even more unbearable this year. Right as "Zerkmeyer, Wadsworth" joined the Ravenclaw table, Headmaster Dumbledore stood up and the cheers were abruptly stopped. "This year will be one of the toughest, and most memorable, yet. Last year's events," a few daring murmurs broke out at the mention of Harry's scrape with Voldemort. "have caused security around Hogwarts to be upped yet again. We ask that nobody goes anywhere alone, especially at night, and the Forbidden Forest is completely off limits as usual." Dumbledore's eyes sparkled for a second, and Harry thought he saw a smile peep through the massive beard of his as he knew just how many times those rules would be broken  
  
"Welcome, students both new and old, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" He announced grandly, and clapping his hands together, a feast suddenly materialized on their plates. Blood pudding, kidney pie, deviled eggs; Harry ate them all. Twice.  
  
As Harry ate, he noticed several people's clothes leaping off their bodies and screaming momentarily, some tongues expanding beyond control, while the Weasley twins sat smugly back in their chairs. Innocently shrugging at Harry and Ron, and also winking deviously, they returned to their meal.  
  
After taking a swig of pumpkin juice and glancing down, Harry suddenly noticed a small tart sitting in the center of his plate that he was sure hadn't been there before. He passed it off as a special present from the House Elves or something. Feeling absolutely full to the bursting, he offered the tiny pastry to Neville Longbottom, who was sitting next to Harry.  
  
"Hey, thanks Harry!" Neville chirped, popping it in his mouth. Harry was quickly engrossed in a conversation with Ron about the upcoming Quidditch season, and Hermione, sitting on the other side of Neville, was heatedly arguing with Lavender Brown about the voting status of Centaurs and Unicorns. Nobody happened to notice Neville, who was rapidly turning purple and the shadow of death was creeping into his eyes.  
  
Neville was dying.  
  
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A/N: Eh? Eh? Didn't I tell you it'd pick up? A little cliffhanger might do y'all some good. pulling your hair out from frustration is therapeutic, really. More reviews please! Still only got my one reader. well, two, counting my imaginary friend Harriet. It's sad when I have to invent people just so I can up my viewer status. But poor Harriet has no arms, so she cannot type a review for me! (GASP, how sad. *tear *) Therefore it is up to you fine people to flatter/flame this withering author who is quickly sinking into a depression from lack of readers. *gives pleading look to person on other side of computer screen *  
  
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com 


	4. The Nagraggiss Curse

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Four  
  
A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to lazydaisy for reviewing! By the by, I totally share your love of Harry Potter and Sean Biggerstaff. yummmmm *drooling* He could be my Gryffindor Keeper anyday (no perverted joke intended. okay, maybe a little. Wink wink, nudge nudge)  
  
Yay, I'm not a total failure *breathes sigh of relief* Now, I know you're all dying to know how ol' Neville's doing. well, read on, noble viewer, read on!  
  
Characters: Not mine. Plot: Totally mine. Tuna Sandwiches: Staying at least twelve feet away from me.  
  
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The whole Gryffindor table had no clue Neville Longbottom was dying. Swaying slightly in his chair, the panicked boy did the only thing he could; and fell right in Harry's lap. "What the -" Harry asked, looking bewilderedly down at Neville, who had used all the remaining strength he had to collapse.  
  
"Quick, somebody help! Something's wrong with Neville!" Harry shrieked, trying to raise the boy off his lap. The whole hall fell silent at the tone of horror in his voice, and all eyes were turned to the scene.  
  
The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher leapt up from the Staff Table and rushed over, wavy brown hair flowing out behind her, followed closely by Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Jectave!" the new woman shouted, pointing her wand at Neville as she cast the wizarding version of the Heimlich manuver. Nothing happened. "Status Mystronos!" she shouted after a moment's evaluation, and her wand glowed red briefly as she closed her eyes. After only a second they snapped open again and she knelt down so close to Neville nobody could hear the spell she uttered.  
  
Harry held his breath, hoping Neville wasn't. but before he could finish the ghastly thought, the teacher stood up again, looking grim.  
  
"What is it, Professor Callahan?" McGonagall whispered fearfully.  
  
"A suffocation curse, the Negraggiss. I've performed the counter-curse, but this boy's got to be taken to the Hospital Wing immediately. He's still not in the clear yet." The woman commanded expertly. At once Dumbledore picked up the boy, lying stiffly on the ground, and exited the Great Hall with McGonagall hurrying after him.  
  
"I think the feast is officially over now, Prefects please lead your houses to their dormitories." The new Professor instructed, projecting her voice throughout the hall. Her sharp honey-colored eyes lingered on Harry, giving him a sympathetic look before she turned to usher along the terrified first years.  
  
Back in the Gryffindor Tower Room, things were the normal party that they were on the first day back. Even Seamus Finnigan, who wasn't all that fond of Neville to start with, was cracking jokes about the incident. Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled in a corner to discuss things quietly.  
  
"What's the Negraggiss Curse, Hermione?" Harry asked, figuring that if anyone knew, she would.  
  
"I've heard of it, not one of the Unforgivable Curses but pretty close. The victim gets panicky and tries to take quicker breaths, and that's how the curse works. If you try to gulp in air as fast as you can, your lungs seize up and you'll suffocate. There is a way to break through it though, if you calm yourself down and take slow, deep breaths, you'll survive." Hermione explained. "It's a curse we're supposed to learn about this year, but I've already read ahead several chapters."  
  
"D'you think Neville'll be okay?" Ron croaked, evidently hit pretty hard.  
  
"Sure, Madame Pomefry's got the cure for anything up there in the Hospital Wing. The thing I'm more worried about is where he got the curse. I don't remember anything, and I was sitting right next to him. Harry, what'd Neville do just before he fell over onto you?" Hermione asked, that official Sherlock Holmes-esque gleam in her eyes.  
  
"I don't really remember, eating I suppose. I was talking to Ron abou - OH NO." Harry said, relaying them the events of that night.  
  
"What, what is it? You remember something?" Hermione asked excitedly.  
  
"There was some tiny little tart that just popped up on my plate unexpectedly, and dessert wasn't supposed to have been served yet. I figured it was just a present from Dobby or Winky from the kitchen. I wasn't all that hungry, so I gave it to Neville. That was the last thing I remember him doing before. it happened." Harry described. "You don't think it could've. do you?"  
  
"I don't know, Harry, it is possible. But how could it get there?" Hermione answered his question with another question. Her statement was punctuated by Lee Jordan's yelp when a dessert he was eating made a lout POP! and disappeared.  
  
"Oh, sorry Lee. A Popping Pastry must've gotten mixed in with those tarts." Fred said, clapping his frightened friend on the back. The three of them looked at each other, all thinking the same thing: could it have been the twins?  
  
"Of course, it takes a very experienced witch or wizard to execute such a curse. It's very advanced Dark Magic." Hermione clarified. But there were still secret doubts hiding in their minds.  
  
Classes began the next day, but they seemed incomplete, lacking Neville's nervous gibber. Charms was very boring without Professor Flitwick flying across the room, which was usually Neville's mistake by way of some wild spell. Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to go and visit their friend during lunch.  
  
"Oh, hello Professor Dumbledore." Harry greeted, walking in the Hospital Wing and finding the headmaster sitting next to Neville's bed.  
  
"Nice to see you Harry, Ron, Hermione. Come to visit?" the old wizard asked.  
  
"Yeah, we've missed him." Harry answered. That was only part of the reason though; Harry also felt responsible for what happened. After all, it was his tart in the first place, and if he hadn't been so self-absorbed he would've noticed Neville's reaction.  
  
"How's he doing?" Hermione asked, setting a homemade 'Get Well' card on the disturbingly bare table. Whenever Harry was in the hospital, which was quite often, two tables weren't nearly enough to hold all his gifts. Harry made a mental note to bring a card next visit.  
  
"Been sleeping for eighteen hours straight, and you can count on eighteen more. His body is barely old enough to handle the curse. Much younger, or much more time without air, and he wouldn't've been as fortunate." Dumbledore said dolefully. That sobered the group up even more than they already were.  
  
Suddenly Neville stirred and groaned in a raspy voice. "Harry, will you come with me to get another sleeping potion for Neville here?" Dumbledore asked. Harry followed the headmaster through the white double doors, and began scanning the vast shelves.  
  
"So Professor Dumbledore, how's everything?" Harry asked, indicating how the fight against Voldemort was coming.  
  
"It's a fine struggle, Harry. The meeting Sirius, Remus, and the rest of the crowd attended was an organization of strategy. We've got a number of taps in the Ministry, including Ron's father, who are keeping us posted on the goings on there. I get a hundred owls a day from various Ministry officials, asking what to do. Cornelius Fudge is pretty well just a figurehead now, hardly being allowed to make any decisions at all. Looks like I'm the undercover Minister of Magic." Dumbledore explained.  
  
"Had any problems from Death Eaters yet?" Harry inquired.  
  
"Just a few, but minor things compared to what Voldemort could do if he wanted. Childs play, a warm-up for what's coming. Professor Snape hasn't been discovered as a spy yet, and is attending Death Eater Meetings once a week. He isn't trusted enough to be let in the inner circle of The Dark Lord's officers though. But still, he's our most important link in winning this fight." The headmaster answered. Harry always appreciated the way he wasn't treated like a child during these discussions.  
  
"Right now, our hands are tied. Voldemort's got the first move, and we can't do anything until he's willing. The best we can manage is preparing for the many courses of action he could take." Dumbledore continued. Harry thought a look of worry and protection passed over the old man's face as he gazed at the child, but it was gone so quickly Harry wondered if it was even there to begin with.  
  
Returning to the bedside, Dumbledore gingerly poured the liquid down Neville's propped open mouth. Instantly a look of peace and rest came over his face and he lay still. Promising to come back the next day, the three friends left the Hospital Wing and traipsed down to the Great Hall for some lunch.  
  
"I feel so sorry for Neville." Hermione began, but stopped short when the sneering face of Draco Malfoy rounded the corner.  
  
"Well if it isn't Potty and the Weasel, with Mangy Grangy tagging along." Malfoy's lip curled up unpleasantly.  
  
"Shove it, Malfoy, or later you might just be singing a different tune." Hermione retorted scathingly, before marching away sassily. Harry and Ron savored Malfoy's outraged face before running along behind her.  
  
"Gee Hermione, you've certainly got it out for Malfoy all of a sudden." Ron remarked, sitting down beside her while a corned beef sandwich popped up on his plate.  
  
"I've decided not to let him push me around this year. That prat's got to learn his lesson sometime, before he grows up to be like his father." Hermione commented, fiercely biting into her sandwich and leaving it at that. Ron and Harry decided to also.  
  
In Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, Professor Sprout seemed rather deflated. Even repotting Bubotuber plants didn't cheer her up. Countless times that class Harry played the 'if only' game. If only he had let Cedric take care of that Blast-Ended Skrewt on his own. If only he'd gotten to the trophy first, and not been a dense enough to debate with Cedric about touching it at the same time. If only that Hungarian Horntail had just finished Harry off right then, so many lives would be left unaffected.  
  
'Now, you don't mean that.' insisted a little voice inside his head. 'Just as many people would have suffered if you had died at the claws of the Horntail. Don't fret about the past.' Of course it was easy enough for the voice to do, but for Harry the past was a much bigger load than it was on others. The-Boy-Who-Lived had certainly lived through a lot.  
  
By the end of class, Harry was just as depressed as Professor Sprout, and Hermione and Ron had to talk about Quidditch all the way to their Transfiguration class before he brightened a bit.  
  
"Welcome, fifth year students. This year you move on to Advanced Transfiguration, a thing you will find both extremely taxing, and extremely rewarding." Professor McGonagall lectured. Hermione looked like she couldn't wait to get on to the taxing part.  
  
Their first task was a new and frightening one: they began lessons on Transfiguring their own bodies. After five rolls of parchment worth of notes, the severe witch told them to change their pinky fingers into twigs. It was an odd sensation, Harry's finger went ridged and turned brown, and that's all he could get it to do. Of course, Hermione sitting next to him was Transfiguring each finger into a different type of wood, even sprouting a pink flower from her index twig. But by the end of class, Harry had finally gotten it.  
  
They walked down to the Great Hall for dinner together, Harry's finger still rather brown and knobby. He studied the Weasley twins across the table from him, wondering if they were capable of such a horrible thing. They certainly didn't feel sorry for Neville at all, after the mad partying they had done last night. But then the person about to become suspect number two walked by, whacking Harry smartly on the head.  
  
"Ouch, Malfoy you klutz, watch where you're going!" Harry called after the retreating figure. The pale boy whipped around, clearly delighted that he'd been challenged.  
  
"Oh really, a klutz? As in choking on a piece of your own dinner, Potter?" Malfoy asked acidly, doubling over and gagging himself. Hideous cackling ensued from the pack of Slytherins behind him, but Harry didn't flinch. How dare he make fun of Neville, he'd been cursed and almost died! Of course, that's exactly the sort of thing that would make prime comedy with those bunch of snobs.  
  
Malfoy could have done it, Harry thought. After all, Dobby used to be his house-elf and might be bullied and guilted into placing the tainted tart on Harry's plate. That manipulative jerk was just capable of it.  
  
Not feeling much like eating anymore, Harry excused himself and went upstairs to his dormitory. Now was the time for some serious Quidditch reading, he thought, as he opened Quidditch Through the Ages and read it for the thirtieth time. The familiar words acted like a pacifier, and in no time at all Harry Potter was fast asleep.  
  
The next morning they had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the new Professor Callahan. "Hello my new pupils, I'm Professor Victoria Callahan, your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. I know you might be thinking that a female teacher on such a 'manly' subject is absurd, and all you'll learn is fluff about bunny rabbits and rainbows. I'll have you know that that's the last thing I intend on doing. I'm tough as nails with a backbone of steel, so don't try to connive your way out of assignments and such." she addressed the class confidently. She was the kind of person that walked into a room and commanded respect. "Now, turn in your book The Rise and Fall of The Dark Lord to the introduction. I'm reading the opening paragraph."  
  
"'Lord Voldemort preyed on the helpless, the weak, the ones who weren't taught how to defend themselves. He was the most powerful wizard of his time, and many refused to stand up to him because they figured they weren't able to win. How wrong they were. If only a band of heroes would have stood up to him in the beginning, while he still hadn't gathered much strength, they could have stopped so much disaster. But by the time they figured this out, he was too dominant and impressive by then.'" Professor Callahan closed the book and looked up at her students. "That is why I'm here. This year you'll learn to defend yourselves from various dark curses. I'm training the population of the future, so if Lord Voldemort or any of his followers ever rise again, this generation will know exactly how to deal with them." The classroom flinched as one body when she said the name of The Dark Lord, but her haunting speech got under their skin and coursed through their veins, inspiring every inch of them. This was going to be one great class, and probably more beneficial to Harry than any of his others combined. He'd probably had more contact with Voldemort than all of the most experienced aurors.  
  
Like Hermione had said, they were going to learn about the Negraggiss Curse this year, along with many others. Professor Callahan told them about it's affect on people (Hermione had been right on the money, as always), and described the way to break through it.  
  
"Neville Longbottom had been cursed with the Negraggiss. If he hadn't alerted Mr. Potter to his peril, he'd be dead right now." she declared solemnly. Many of the Gryffindors paled at this; and a few whispers told Harry that they just thought he'd choked on his food. After all, everyone wasn't as close to the action as Harry was and probably misunderstood his symptoms. Then something occurred to Harry, and he tentatively raised his hand.  
  
"Professor Callahan?" he asked, and she nodded. "How did you know that it was the Negraggiss Curse?"  
  
"Oh, after the Jectave Projection didn't work, I knew it must be a magical ailment. I used the Status Mystronos spell. When cast, the Status Mystronos lets the person know exactly what's wrong with someone. A very handy spell when you deal with as many Dark Curses as I do." she explained. Harry committed that to memory; most likely he'd need to use that spell in the near future.  
  
After taking hurried notes on the Status Mystronos spell, it was time for lunch. Again Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to visit Neville in the hospital wing. Harry pulled a card out of his bag and set it on the table. He'd made it especially massive to take up the space from lack of cards. Ron set one on the table also, Harry had bullied him into making one.  
  
Neville was still asleep, but his breathing didn't sound as raspy anymore and seemed a little less pale. Before they left, Madame Pomfrey informed them that Neville ought to be up and running in time for morning classes tomorrow. Significantly brightened by this news, lunch was a much cheerier affair that day.  
  
The rather useful Defense Against the Dark Arts class was followed by the utterly worthless Divination. Ron and Harry made their way up the spiral staircase as Hermione gloated about running off to Ancient Runes. The thick smell of incense clogged their nostrils and fogged their minds as they entered Professor Trelawney's loft.  
  
Ever since Harry's correct prediction of Buckbeak the Hippogriff's escape from death, Professor Trelawney had regarded him as some kind of sage. "Boy, you have the gift." she said for the millionth time, foreseeing his bloody demise to the whole class for the millionth time also. He and Ron took a pair of poufs near the back of the classroom and promptly fell asleep. If she ever caught them, which she rarely did, they just acted like they were getting a strong prophecy about their deaths and she was sufficiently suckered into it.  
  
After their nice nap, Harry and Ron went downstairs to dinner. While Harry ate his roast, he studied the staff table. Snape was glaring at Professor Callahan with pure hatred, but she hadn't noticed yet. Wait. now those honey-colored eyes were looking right back at him. The slimeball's lips curled up into a smile reminiscent of a hungry coyote. She then picked up her plate and walked over to the Potions Master, taking the vacant seat next to him. Harry couldn't look away, he figured something worth watching was about to happen. She watched her lips say hello to Professor Snape, and surprisingly enough the nasty look wiped itself off his face. They chatted like two long lost friends, which was quite uninteresting, albeit phenomenal, to Harry. He'd been hoping for a knock down drag out fight.  
  
This was weird, Snape being civil around the teacher who'd gotten his job. Was he secretly forming a plan to annihilate her? Were they in fact long lost friends? Or, this thought being the most far-fetched of all. did Snape, notorious for his cold, unfeeling attitude, fancy Victoria Callahan?  
  
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A/N: Well, that was certainly a fun chapter. I had to invent two spells on my own, the Negraggiss Curse and Status Mystronos, and I'm quite proud if I do say so myself. Last chapter I wrote my own Sorting Song, and supply lists and everything. Wow, Ms. Rowling, now I know what you go through. Of course, when SHE writes, people actually READ her stuff. I can't seem to get above two measley readers. But I am eternally grateful to Rose Rovente and lazydaisy for reading. You're still reading, aren't you?! I sure hope so, or I'm writing this author's note right now and nobody will ever see it! Is all my hard work for naught? SIGH, ah well. Talk to you (if indeed anyone is out there) next chapter, due in three or four days. I'm becoming sluggish and lazy, so sue me.  
  
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com 


	5. SURPRISE!

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Five  
  
A/N: Yay-rah, having readers is FUN! And inspiring! I've got five grand, wonderful readers that flatter me way too much (and a little more wouldn't hurt). To the newbies NightDreamerl1010, I Dunno, KZerina, I love you guys, thank you so much!  
  
Hope you like this chappity-chap-chapter, and remember, ALL THINGS BRITISH ARE COOL! i.e.: Bridget Jones, Monty Python, Harry Potter, scones. need I say more? Avril Lavigne too, even tho she's French Canadian, but that's European-ish, right?? Ugh, who cares, it's summer! (tho not for long. *sniff*)  
  
Note the fact I am poor. Note the fact that I am not receiving millions of truckloads of fan mail. Note that my name is not J.K. Rowling. 'Nuff said. But please do note that I am working pretty hard to produce this plot, so don't copy me! *sings rap song by Missy Elliot. 'copywrited so - don't copy me.'*  
  
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All signs of a perhaps lovey-dovey Severus Snape were chased away by Double Potions that Friday, though. That cold Slytherin sarcasm was back full swing, and on poor Neville's first day back he had to deal with his most feared teacher. Needless to say, by the end of class he looked as if he could use another stay in the Hospital Wing.  
  
"This year I am trusting you with more. Hopefully, you have matured enough to handle a bit of responsibility. However," Snape said, giving a special stare at Harry. "I'm quite certain some of you are not."  
  
Opening their new books to a Forcefield Potion, Snape began writing the instructions on the blackboard and class had begun. Taking pity on his trembling classmate, Harry paired himself up with Neville. Giving him a supportive smile, Harry walked him through each step with the patience of a concerned parent.  
  
"Be sure to mince the Mandrake leaves finely, Neville, that's it." Harry coaxed. They then added the green particles to the simmering mixture in their cauldron. "Don't forget to stir exactly thirty-two times, at an increasing speed. I'll crush up the iris of the moonlight calf." Harry ground the gelatinous eye particles, the gummy consistency making his skin crawl. After adding the bluish goo, the concoction turned a translucent white and a thick vapor rose from it.  
  
"I think that's it, besides a particle of whatever the Forcefield Potion is forcefield-ing." Harry said, reading through the recipe once again. But his calculating was interrupted by Professor Callahan's entrance into the dungeon.  
  
"Severus, I need a double-batch of the Forcefield Potion to test on my seventh-years." she said, walking up to Professor Snape's desk. Harry's mouth gaped open; had she really just dared to call him by his first name? Even Dumbledore hardly did that!  
  
"My students are preparing it now, Professor Callahan." the man replied without even a hint of nastiness or scorn, as if it were a normal occurrence for him.  
  
"Oh, good. How about five points to the duo that's gotten it right?" Professor Callahan proposed cheerily, rubbing her hands together. She went by each cauldron, inspecting the simmering mixture in each. "Too thick, too dark, not enough grindylow vertebrate, ah, but this one," she said, stopping in front of Malfoy. Both him and Snape smiled arrogantly at everyone. "I have no idea what you did to make it look this way. It's green, for heaven's sakes, and not even frothing properly! Look, I can even see whole Mandrake leaves at the bottom!" she tutted, stirring up Malfoy's blend. "That should be five points off, Severus, for sloppiness, don't you think?"  
  
Snape looked as if he'd just eaten a persimmon.  
  
(A/N: if you've never eaten a persimmon before, count yourself lucky. They're incredibly bitter, making your whole face pucker and the rotted taste doesn't leave your mouth for days.)  
  
But rather begrudgingly, he agreed. "Five points off for sloppiness, Malfoy. You know better than that." he spat. The Gryffindors couldn't believe their ears! Had Professor Severus Snape actually just taken points from his own house? This was certainly an unprecedented event.  
  
Professor Callahan kept walking along the rows of cauldrons, judging each one's contents. "Why hello Neville, nice to see you well again. Quite a scare you gave everyone." she said, coming to a stop at Neville and Harry's cauldron. Neville blushed and stared at his hands. "Perfect consistency, nicely combined. Severus, I think we have a winner!" she declared excitedly. Picking up the ladle and stirring the mixture with her finger for a moment, she quickly threw her head back and downed the large spoonful.  
  
Gasps resounded throughout the room, was she actually foolish enough to drink something Neville made? Immediately afterwards the woman stood there, perfectly normal and unaffected. But a second later a white mist surrounded her, and her image became a bit fuzzy around the edges.  
  
"Go ahead Severus, try and hex me." she challenged, her voice ringing and bell-like. Everyone thought that was a big mistake, knowing their Potions Master he'd probably do the worst one imaginable. And what if the forcefield wasn't strong enough, and Harry and Neville's potion failed? The whole room held it's breath as Snape raised his wand, smiling as he said "Sai Pronungrum." The spell penetrated the mist and slowed to a snail's pace, before dropping to the floor and disappearing altogether.  
  
"A Distortion Hex, Professor. I thought you were the type to go for the throat." she said teasingly. Then she adressed Harry and Neville. "Nice job, you two. Five points, I assume, are in order Severus." Again the persimmon appeared on Snape's lips before he spoke.  
  
"Of course. Potter, Longbottom, five points for Gryffindor." he stated, making Professor Callahan beam appreciatively at him.  
  
"Thank you for humoring my little game, Severus. I'll just take this potion here and be on my way. My deepest gratitude." said Professor Callahan, pointing at the mixture with her wand and making it immediately leap into a jar in her hand. "Goodbye." she said, before walking out the door. Harry noticed Snape's eyes linger over the place where she stood for a moment longer than necessary, but then he whipped around to the blackboard and began wiping it vigorously.  
  
"Did you see how Snape was acting in class today? Weird! I'm willing to bet that Professor Callahan is some sort of veela, or controlling him with the Imperious Curse." Ron remarked on the events of that afternoon while they walked to dinner.  
  
"Personally I think not getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again this year made the poor man finally crack." Hermione estimated.  
  
"I don't know, I have the sneaking feeling that he fancies her." Harry put out, earning some baffled looks from Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Don't be daft, Harry, Snape hasn't got enough heart to have feelings. And besides, Professor Callahan stole his job. He's got to hate her." Ron replied, only halfway convincing Harry.  
  
"Hey, psst, Harry." Fred whispered to Harry from across the table. "Surprise party tonight for Neville, in the common room. Pass it on." Breaking into a broad smile, Harry told the news to Ron and Hermione.  
  
"How nice of them! Oh, Neville'll be so happy." Hermione commented happily. Indeed, the excited looks spread across the Gryffindor House table like wildfire.  
  
It was Harry's job to keep Neville out of the common room until the party was ready that night, so he told Neville that he was going to visit Professor Callahan. "Why don't you come with me, I'm just going to see how our potion did." Harry asked, hoping Neville agreed. Thankfully he did, and they were off down the broad corridors towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.  
  
Tentatively, Harry knocked on the intricately carved door. It had a cornucopia overflowing with succulent fruit on it, and it whether by an optical illusion or a magical illusion, the fruit seemed in motion, cascading down the front of the door. She was really quite girly for being 'tough as nails with a backbone of steel.'  
  
"Who is it?" the voice of Professor Callahan called from the other side of the door.  
  
"Harry and Neville." Harry answered to a particularly tasty looking pear.  
  
"Oh, come on in." she said, and the door creaked on it's hinges as it opened. "Do you need help with anything, boys?" She was dressed in a pink terrycloth robe with stars and moons on it, with pink fuzzy bunny slippers that wiggled their ears up at Harry and Neville. Her office was quite feminine also, with big comfy chairs and flowery wallpaper.  
  
"No, we were just wondering how our Forcefield Potion worked out." Neville answered.  
  
"Quite nicely, thank you very much. You did a fabulous job." she complimented.  
  
"Right back at you, Professor Callahan," Harry replied. "How on earth did you get Professor Snape to give us points, not to mention take some away from his own house? Ususally he's steadfastly biased."  
  
"Come on Harry, it can't be that bad." she said, but at the sincere looks on their faces she relented. "Well, I have to admit, sometimes he plays favorites a bit, but I'm sure it's involuntary."  
  
"Involuntary my foot!" Neville exclaimed, no doubt past scenes of torment and ridicule coming to mind.  
  
"He's just as nasty as his pack of Slytherins." Harry put in.  
  
"Now you two, just because someone's in Slytherin doesn't automatically mean they're a horrendous Death Eater." she said, reading their underlying thoughts. "Being in Slytherin means you have high goals and a desire for power, not unlike a child wanting to be a movie star. I know some malevolent qualities tend to pop up mostly in that house, but every house has their bullies." At this suggestion Harry realized that she was right. Seamus Finnigan was awfully cruel an awful lot, but since he was in Harry's house he hadn't noticed it before. And Ernie MacMillian of Hufflepuff had always been very judgmental in starting rumors and promoting them. This information was challenging to the very way that Harry thought about everyone.  
  
"I see your point, but you have to admit, Professor, that Snape is unfair a lot." Harry said, after much thought.  
  
"Harry, do you know why Severus is the way that he is?" she asked. Harry shook his head, it had never occurred to him that there was a reason. He passed it off as natural ability. "Then you can't say it's unfair. After all, it's unfair the way all Slytherin's are thought of as inherent Death Eaters. And it's also unfair that Severus cannot escape the demon's he's suffered for past actions. He's been trying to right his life for twenty years now, and one stubborn opinion keeps holding him back." She looked at Harry meaningfully and he understood that she meant his past as a Death Eater. Of course he's probably been trying to prove that he's loyal to the light side and the light side alone, but because of appearance and stereotype he'd been misunderstood.  
  
"Professor Callahan, you lost me back at 'inherent.'" Neville said, not processing the implications of her lecture.  
  
"Don't worry about it Neville, basically looks can be deceiving. Make your own opinions about people, that's what she's saying." Harry explained to his confused friend.  
  
"Yes it is, Harry. I'm glad you understand." she said, smiling at them both.  
  
Suddenly Harry's wand began to vibrate, which was the signal that the party was ready. Fred was buzzing him from the Common Room with a spell equaling the wizarding version of a pager.  
  
"Well, it was nice talking to you Professor Callahan, Neville and I better get going. After all, Dumbledore said no wandering around the school at night. Goodbye, and thanks for your discussion." Harry said.  
  
"Yeah, bye Professor Callahan. See you next class." Neville said, before departing out the door with Harry.  
  
Walking quickly down the hallways and through pictures containing hidden passageways, it took ten minutes to get to the Common Room.  
  
"Password?" The Fat Lady asked, raising her sleeping mask to look scornfully at the two boys.  
  
"Ziconium." Harry answered, and the portrait swung open.  
  
"SURPRISE!!!" the entire common room shouted as Neville stepped through the portrait hole, followed by Harry.  
  
"Welcome back, Neville!" Hermione said, coming up to the stunned Gryffindor and giving him a hug.  
  
"What in the.?" was all Neville could muster, but he was clearly elated. His face sported a genuine smile, and his eyes were wide with disbelief. "I've never had a surprise party before!" he stated excitedly after a second, and he was whisked away by Fred and George to the overflowing buffet table.  
  
Harry was pleased to see that there were three tables in the center of the room, piled to the maximum with cards, gifts, and flowers. Harry guessed that it was partly due to Professor Callahan's explanation to everyone, making them feel guilty enough to make it up to Neville. She was such an influential speaker, no wonder she'd gone into Defense Against the Dark Arts. She could probably talk a Dark Wizard over onto the light side without even knowing what hit him.  
  
The party was filled with chatting and music and food and too much merriment, and everyone was having a blast. "I can't believe you all did this for me." Neville thanked after opening all his gifts and reading all his cards.  
  
"And we can't believe you and Harry weaseled five points out of Snape!" George said, clapping Neville on the back. "That's why we made you this." And out from behind his back George pulled a plaque that said "NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM AND HARRY POTTER: A REWARD FOR EXCELLENCE IN POTION MAKING AND THE FIRST TO SQUEEZE FIVE POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR HOUSE OUT OF PROFESSOR SNAPE." Everyone got a good laugh out of that, and the plaque was placed in the Gryffindor trophy cabinet in the common room.  
  
This was clearly the proudest day of Neville Longbottom's life.  
  
As you would expect, somehow a few Weasley Wizard Wheezes products 'accidentally' got mixed in with the buffet table food, and there were sneezes, poppings, screamings, and canaries cropping up all over the place along with riotous laughter.  
  
A first year, Nancy Freeston, cautiously picked up a red lollipop from the candy dish and unwrapped it. "I hope it's not cherry, because I hate cherry. It's always so annoying that cherry, watermelon, and strawberry end up looking exactly the same." she remarked, cautiously unwrapping the sucker.  
  
"Oh-my-gosh, I so know what you mean! That's a pet peeve of mine." answered Lavender Brown prissily. Harry and Ron looked at each other and tried not to laugh. But a second later their mood drastically changed.  
  
Timidly, Nancy stuck her tongue out and licked the sucker, testing out what flavor it was. Instantly she let out a bloodcurdling scream that caused the whole room to go silent. Her tongue was swiftly turning black and smoking, ashes falling onto the floor.  
  
"What's wrong with her?"  
  
"Holy -"  
  
"She's burning!"  
  
Worried comments flew about the room, panic rising with Nancy's pitch. The blackness had consumed her tongue and was traveling down her windpipe, and her screams became choked and hoarse.  
  
"Somebody help her, please!" Lavender shrieked.  
  
But no help was coming.  
  
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A/N: Muah-ah-ahh, the dreaded cliffhanger strikes again! My my, I am devious, aren't I? *readers nod vigorously while sharpening their weapons* Don't sacrifice me yet, I do intend to continue the story and curb your hunger for more relatively soon. SIGH, but I start my s'more year TOMORROW, so you gotta check for updates every Saturday. Please forgive me, but my life is being stolen away by the evil minions of the Public School system!  
  
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com  
  
P.S. I just bought the Wayne's World Soundtrack, and Bohemian Rhapsody is the best song ever! "I see a little silhouette-o of a man, Scallamoush, Scallamoush, can you do the Fan-Dang-o." spelling's a little sketchy, sorry. ;) 


	6. Nancy Freeston

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Six  
  
A/N: WOWIE, eight whole readers! I'm tickled pink! Thank you so much! Yippie-skippie! Now, I'll gladly stop the freefall from the cliffy I left you with, so enjoy reading!  
  
Everyone raise your hands if you think I own Harry Potter!! *author enthusiastically raises hand, sees J.K. Rowling and millions of her lawyers NOT raising hands, sheepishly puts hand back down.* And the moral of the story is. HARRY POTTER IS NOT MINE!!!!  
  
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Nancy Freeston's bloodcurdling screams weren't bringing help anytime soon, Hermione could tell. The girl was lying on the floor, writhing with pain, throat blackened and smoking, and still she was trying to scream.  
  
"Somebody help her!" Lavender Brown yelled, and her words echoed inside Hermione. Somebody. help her. but no one was. Reaching inside her robes, Hermione grabbed her wand and gripped it tightly. Thinking quick, the Status Mystronos spell popped into her head. Immediately after saying it, a mental image of the Charrfoyl Curse traveling steadily towards Nancy Freeston's heart played in Hermione's thoughts. The correct counter-curse came to mind, and without hesitation she cast it on the girl at her feet.  
  
At once the convulsing stopped and Nancy lay still, deathfully still. The eerie silence filled the common room, and everyone's heart skipped a beat. What to do now?  
  
(^*^)  
  
Minerva McGonagall was sleeping peacefully until a bloodcurdling scream awoke her from her slumber. "Boorish children partying till all hours." she grumbled, throwing on her bathrobe and marching off to the Gryffindor common room.  
  
Nearing the portrait of the Fat Lady, Professor McGonagall began to hear frightened screams and chaotic scuffles. Quickening her step, she reached the painting and promptly spoke the password. Just as the portrait swung open, all noise felt like it had been sucked away. Everything was completely silent.  
  
"Oh, good, I'm glad you're here Professor, someth-" the Fat Lady was saying, but the old woman was through the portrait hole and had closed the door without letting her finish.  
  
The sight that met Professor McGonagall's eyes might have resembled a nightmare, but even her subconscious wouldn't picture something so horrible. A timid first year, Nancy Freeston, was lying on the floor with Hermione Granger standing over her, clutching her wand. Nancy's whole mouth and throat were black and charred, and her face was contorted in a look of utter pain.  
  
"What's going on here?" Professor McGonagall shouted, and for the first time everyone noticed that she was there.  
  
"It's Nancy, Professor,"  
  
"She's burning,"  
  
"Oh God, the smell,"  
  
"Please, help her!"  
  
Voices from all over the room met the teacher's ears, and quickly she strode forward towards Nancy. Picking up the limp girl, Professor McGonagall carried her out the portrait hole and hurried towards the Hospital Wing.  
  
Every Gryffindor stared after the two of them, until the door closed and they were left in the room. Lavender Brown started to cry again, along with many other girls in the room. Even Neville's eyes grew rather red, and Ron gave his shoulder a supportive squeeze. It had happened again, two Gryffindor's in two days.  
  
Of course nobody knew what curse it had been, but had a feeling that it had indeed been a curse. "I - I can't believe it. She was burning alive, oh God." said Hermione, the vision of the Charrfoyl Curse coursing along the child's body haunted her mind.  
  
Needless to say, nobody got much sleep that night. Many nightmares flared up, filled with Nancy's bloodcurdling screams and, for Hermione, who had the worst night of all, the memory of the Charrfoyl Curse forcing itself through the child's small body.  
  
The next morning, a solemn Gryffindor table picked at their food, not feeling much like doing anything. Nancy was in the Intensive Care section of the Hospital Wing, and Professor McGonagall had come earlier that morning to report how she was doing.  
  
"Nancy's got severe third-degree burns along her wind pipe and throat, luckily though she only had minor damage to her lungs. Hermione, if you hadn't come to her rescue, she'd be. be gone right now." the professor explained, trying to choke back her tears. But Nancy couldn't have visitors yet; her condition was still too fragile. It was scary to imagine the way she had looked the night before, her whole throat blackened and charred. It was amazing that she survived. "She's got courage, not to worry. It's no mistake she was put in Gryffindor." Professor McGonagall comforted, forcing a smile, before leading her house down to breakfast.  
  
"Ron, do you think someone's got it out for Gryffindor?" Harry asked over his porridge.  
  
"I dunno Harry, someone always seems to." Ron answered.  
  
"Yeah, but this is twice now that somebody's almost died. Death, Ron, that's never been attempted before." Harry replied.  
  
"Well, not never. it could be You-Know-Who's work like it's always been." Ron suggested, whispering the illicit name.  
  
This could be true, Harry thought. But why would Voldemort bother with tainted candies when he could just wipe everyone out with a spell? It didn't make any sense, this was so uncharacteristic of the Dark Lord. Why Negraggiss and Charrfoyle Curses instead of his traditional Avada Kedavra? Something just didn't add up here. "I'm not sure, Ron, Vol - I mean You- Know-Who, wouldn't go through all this cursed candy nonsense, I think he'd just kill us all in one fell swoop with an Avada Kedavra curse or something." Harry said far too gruffly for the meaning of his words. Ron looked thunderstruck.  
  
"I don't mean that it's necessarily going to happen, its just prediction Ron," Harry remarked quickly, trying to make up for what he'd said. But the look didn't fade from his friend's freckled face. "We're at Hogwarts, Ronald Weasley. Dumbledore's here, you're safe, don't worry. I'm sorry I said anything." But Ron's face held it's troubled expression until they reached the Diggory Greenhouse for Herbology.  
  
At lunch that day, the Gryffindor table was busy eating glumly when two big barn owls flew in and dropped a parcel in between the Weasley twins. Eyes shining with more delight than they'd shown in a while, they tore the paper off the package and squealed like little girls when they saw what it was. Excited whispers broke out amongst them.  
  
"Whatcha got there, Fred, George?" Ron asked, standing up and peering over the table.  
  
"Nothing, just a few things from Mum." Fred answered protectively, drawing the thing closer to him.  
  
"Those owls weren't ours, though." Ron remarked, craning his neck further to try and glimpse it.  
  
"Bonnie for you, Sherlock, now shove off." George retorted, wrapping his arms around the mysterious bundle like a mother bear. Ron relented, rolling his eyes and muttering something about 'drama queens.'  
  
But later that night, they soon found out what the commotion was about. After dinner, the twins being oddly absent, everyone trudged up to the common room to find a glorious display set up. 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' was grandly inscribed on a banner hung above a wicker kiosk. At the kiosk stood two identical red-haired boys, grinning broadly.  
  
"Come and get 'em folks, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, the most convincing practical jokes and gags this side of Diagon Alley and beyond!" they barked in unison, managing a wink at numerous people.  
  
Despite the recent run of harmful deceptions, the tricks actually sold quite well. The Weasley's were so popular and trusted that a whole box of Canary Creams were gone in an hour, and the Bellowing Bare-Claw's in less than two. Their beaming, freckled faces were bug-eyed with excitement.  
  
That night was a well-needed joyful one. It was just what the depressive house needed, a goofy and lighthearted time where you were afraid to eat something because it might explode on you, not explode in you. It wasn't disgracing the incident Nancy Freeston had to go through, but exactly the opposite. Moping around would just be taking the easy way out, and not helping the girl's situation at all. At least this way, when she could finally receive visitors there would be tales to uplift her and speed her recovery rather than discouraging her back into poor health.  
  
By the end of the week, Nancy's condition had improved dramatically. Professor McGonagall said that the treatments had healed her throat and windpipe seventy-five percent. "With some reconstructive spells, Madame Pomfrey was able to conjure up a new tongue for her, since the original had been turned to ash by the curse." Professor McGonagall explained warmly. She was visibly thrilled with her student's progress so far.  
  
This news was quite well timed, because after Professor McGonagall's announcement at breakfast it was off to Double Potions for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ron and Hermione went through their usual Snape-bashing session that preceded their class in the dungeons, but Harry kept unusually silent. Professor Callahan's words were running through his mind. "it's unfair the way Severus cannot escape the demon's he's suffered for past actions." Harry had to admit, that made him feel a little sorry for the Potions Master. A little.  
  
"Every wand has it's own unique core, you know that," Professor Snape said, lecturing the class in his usual monotone, oily voice. "But do any of you know what a counter-core is?" At once Hermione's hand shot up in the air, and she was ignored as usual. But Draco Malfoy's hand went up lazily as well, and Snape looked pleased as he called on his favorite student.  
  
"A counter-core is an element that specially intensifies the make-up of your wand and can double, even triple, your power. So if you need to perform a spell that requires a lot of energy, you can gather your counter- core to up your power so you won't over-exert yourself." Malfoy answered, tossing an arrogant smirk over his shoulder at Hermione. "Excellent job, Malfoy, five points to Slytherin." Snape replied, then continued with his explaination. "There are many kinds of cores, and your strengths and weaknesses determine which one you are compatible with. Unicorn hair, for example, is good for charms and transfiguration but terrible at casting or blocking curses. Phoenix feather, on the other hand, is best at casting and blocking curses, but doesn't perform well with summoning spells "Dragon heartstring cores suit the advanced wizard; excelling at any fiery spell but never seeming to perform trivial spells quite right. Now I have every counter-core imaginable on this table, in a bowl, so will you all please form a line and hold your wand over each bowl. You will know when you find your counter-core." explained Professor Snape. This was quite different than the morose professor's normal speeches, where he was blatantly ignored. All attention was focused on Professor Snape, and it was a sensation that he obviously didn't experience much. Harry quickly scribbled down the information for phoenix feather wands, which he owned.  
  
Eagerly, students shoved their way towards the front and scurried to get a good place in the line. About fifty bowls stood on the table before them, and intently each student poised their wand over them.  
  
"Oooh, look!" Parvati Patil squealed as her wand glowed silver and showered red glitter down upon a bowl of ginger root.  
  
"Ginger root, eh?" asked Professor Snape as he walked over to a frightened Parvati. "Would I be correct to assume that your wand contains a core of Unicorn Hair, made of beech wood, and you tend to perform more frilly spells than curses or hexes?" Parvati looked astounded, and nodded vigorously. "Ginger root is a common counter-core for girls and those who enjoy flowers and Cheering Charms." Snape said, looking positively sickened by the very idea.  
  
When placed above a bowl full of a funny looking berry, Harry's wand seemed to transform into water for a second; it wavered and wiggled, and turned a bit bluish around the edges. "Nocturne Verona-berries. A counter-core for the wand made of Phoenix feather, holly, and suits those with a knack for getting themselves into, and out, of trouble. Curse blocking and casting are your specialty, I believe?" Snape asked, and Harry nodded, smiling a bit. He certainly did have a knack for getting himself in and out of trouble. "Go ahead and try one, Mr. Potter." Prompted the Potions Master, and tentatively Harry picked up a rather plump one and placed it on his tongue. Instantaneously a floating sensation ensued in Harry's head, and a biting sourness in his mouth. Spitting the berry out into his palm, Harry saw Snape grinning evilly. 'Prat.' Harry thought, before returning to his seat.  
  
Walking to lunch, Hermione seemed troubled. "Malfoy's never answered a question in his life, and the information about counter-core's wasn't in this year's Potions book. I only knew about it because I did a bit of extra- curricular reading on wands after visiting Mr. Ollivander's shop. Don't you find that strange?" she asked.  
  
"Honestly Hermione, just because somebody else seems to have been as big of a bookworm as you are doesn't mean they're up to no good. Malfoy's from a wizarding family, his dad's probably just used a counter-core before or something like that. Let it go, I'm sure you'll get the next one." Ron commented, and Hermione smiled sheepishly.  
  
"I can't believe my counter-core is the shed skin of a basilisk." Hermione remarked, changing the subject quickly from her foolishness.  
  
"I know, how come you got something terrifying like that, and I get mint leaves?" Ron asked, peeved.  
  
"Well Ron, don't forget that Malfoy got mint leaves for his counter- core too. At least you've got company. Foul company, but you'll cope." Harry reminded. He remembered the look on his friend's face when his wand turned end over end above a bowl of mint leaves, followed a second afterwards by Malfoy's. Ron looked flabbergasted, but somehow this seemed old news to the Slytherin. In fact, Harry had noticed from his desk that Malfoy hadn't even tried any other type of counter-core, just walked straightaway towards the mint leaves. Harry wished he could have been raised in a wizarding family, so all this stuff wouldn't be so new and confusing to him.  
  
That Friday night was the first time Nancy Freeston could receive visitors. "She's still quite ill, so only a few of you at a time." Professor McGonagall instructed the mass of Gryffindor's waiting to get in and see their missing member. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Neville were the first group to enter.  
  
"Hey Nancy, it's so great to see you." Hermione said as soon as she saw the frail blonde girl. Nancy's whole mouth and throat were covered in a goopy, blue cream, and she didn't say anything to them. But she did sport a hearty smile to her visitors. She put her hand on a strange device on her bedside table, somewhat resembling a muggle boom box, and closed her eyes. A moment later, the boom box spoke.  
  
"Hello you guys. Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks." The magical machine said. The group was taken aback at first, then relaxed as they realized it was her magical method of talking.  
  
"Well, good." Fred replied.  
  
"You look much better than the last time we saw you." George put in. Nancy smiled warmly at the two of them, plainly not accusing them of being the culprits the Charrfoyl Curse came from.  
  
"Thank you, that's good to know," she, or rather the box, said. "Hermione, I'm so grateful to you. If you hadn't come to my rescue like that, I know I'd be dead right now." Nancy stated calmly, and Hermione took a step towards the girl's bedside.  
  
"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just mad that I didn't do anything sooner, you must've been in terrible pain." Hermione responded, grasping her fellow Gryffindor's hand.  
  
"I was. But not anymore, I'm getting better, so don't beat yourself up about it. You're the reason there's any improvement at all, Hermione." Nancy replied, squeezing her hand in return. But that was Hermione's nature, she was a perfectionist. There was never any telling her to relax, that a ninety-nine was a perfectly good score on her Charm's test, or that her fingers had turned into perfectly terrifying, lifelike snakes in Transfiguration.  
  
"Here, you all, why don't you have some pastries. I've certainly received enough." Nancy offered, gesturing towards a silver platter wedged in the corner of her crowded gift-holding table. Fred and George each greedily took one of the mouth-watering morsels, and a second later, with a loud POP, a pair of giant red underpants were hanging out of each of their mouths.  
  
Doubled over with laughter, they finally managed to extract the knickers and toss them on Nancy's beaming face. "I came up with that gag myself, called the Prank Panty Pie. I was wondering if you might like a partner in your business, I love this sort of thing. Been playing practical jokes on my family since I was little." Nancy suggested, her young, round face looking hopeful.  
  
Fred and George looked at each other for a second, weighing out the pros and cons of the situation. She was just a first-year, but after they graduated she could still market their Wizard Wheezes at Hogwarts for them. and the Prank Panty Pie was absolutely hilarious. after a few more second's deliberation, they had made their decision. "Of course." the twins said in unison, and Nancy squealed with delight.  
  
"Oh thank you thank you thank you so much, I can't believe this, but I won't let you down I swear! And don't worry, there's plenty more gags where the Prank Panty Pie came from." she said, luminous with merriment.  
  
"Looks like Professor McGonagall won't be rid of Fred and George as soon as she thinks." stated Ron, and Harry was glad. Hogwarts just wouldn't be the same without their colorful tricks and quirky comments. It looked like they'd just named an heir to the Weasley Twin's legacy.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: YAY, and another chapter is completed! I'm so proud of my little story, it's growing up to be such a big boy. *awww.* Opinions? Suggestions? Predictions? Or any other ideas ending with -ions? Send those bad boys my way, I like it when people inflate my ego! And to those newbies who so far have:  
  
Totally-2bular-girl: Well, Fred and George are eighteen, I think it's about time they got some sense! ;) of course, that won't stop me when I reach that age.  
  
Akanksha Mathur: WOWIE, thanks. And I didn't know her name was Joanna Kathlene, learn something new every day, huh? Thanks for loving my fic, and a persimmion is a fruit/nut/berry type thing that grows on trees. My friend has them at her ranch, and I ate one. It wasn't fun. At all. In the least. Bad stuff, lemme tell you. tastes BAD, satanicly bad, and that's the only way to describe it. BLECH!  
  
VyingQuill: I know, I'm quite pleased how the awnry stringmint worked out, quite funny if I do say so myself. Oh, and I DO! Hehe, thanks a lot!  
  
And NightDreamerl1010 again: Thanks, I kinda did have fun in school, besides the whole school part. Boy-watching is fun tho, and I've got some purty nice one's in my classes.. Praise the schedule gods!  
  
For all y'all that wanted me to r/r you, I'm sure gonna try, but dangit that's a lot of stories, and I've got my favs to check on too! So yah, read later, and review more and more!! Yayaayayayayayy-rah! Of course in all the fabulous reviews I've gotten so far, they've said that lack of reviews is a widespread unfortunate that many suffer from, so I guess I'm a wide-many spread fortune. er, wait a minute, brain fart. not thinking clearly. need sleeeeeeeep. chat w/ ya'll later, it's off to dreamland for me!  
  
Bon voyage, arivederchi, and ciao to y'all!  
  
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com 


	7. Quidditch

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Seven  
  
A/N: *dancing around madly to Bohemian Rhapsody.* By the by, what on God's green earth is a Bohemian? And for that matter, why is it rhapsody-ing? Ah well, there are far more important issues to attend to, such as the matter of the Joke that hath Killed. well, ATTEMPTED to kill.  
  
All right, I've done my job by writing, now you do yours! NO, your job is not to try and figure out if I am sane or not (the scientists are tackling that one), your job is to read. R. E. A. D. The little black marks on the page, they make words, and a whole bunch of words is a sentence, and if you put enough sentences together in the right way you'll get. pigeon pie?? WAIT, no, you'll get a story! A-ha, I knew that one!  
  
Lets just say that I own Harry Potter about as much as Carrot Top is a sex god. Yeah, that's right, NOT AT ALL! But I do own this plot about as much as Sean Biggerstaff is a sex god. and that's infinite ownership, baby.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next week, Nancy Freeston was finally released from the Hospital Wing. At dinner that night, Dumbledore explained the whole incident to the school. "Two Friday's ago, a Gryffindor first-year was admitted to the hospital wing at around midnight. Nancy Freeston had been cursed with the Charrfoyl Curse, a horrible spell that travels in the victims mouth, down their windpipe, and to their heart, then killing them." Startled murmurs broke out in the Great Hall, and many pointing fingers at the timid blond girl's scarred neck.  
  
"But thanks to the heroic efforts of Hermione Granger, the curse was stopped before it could do as much damage as it strived to. For courage and cool thinking under pressure, and saving the life of another, I award one hundred points to Gryffindor house." the headmaster continued. Hermione turned the color of Ron's hair and smiled broadly as a standing ovation erupted within the Gryffindor House table, and the Ravenclaw's and Hufflepuff's quickly followed suit. Even a handful of begrudging Slytherin's stood up and applauded Hermione, oddly enough Draco Malfoy included.  
  
"What suddenly made him grow a conscience?" Ron remarked to Harry, motioning across the room at the Slytherin. Harry stared quizzically for a second, then shrugged. Probably some weird form of mocking Hermione, but then again. could Malfoy actually be glad Nancy didn't die? He would never truly be as cold-hearted as to ridicule the near-death of a child. would he?  
  
This all made Harry's head spin; judging by past experiences Draco was the most prejudice and immoral person on earth besides The Dark Lord himself. But in spite of this, Professor Callahan's speech about unfair stereotyping had hit Harry square in the gut, and made him think twice on this suggestion. Of course, before Harry's brain could exert itself further, dinner was served. And there's nothing like food to drive any thoughts straight out a guy's head.  
  
That Saturday, Gryffindor Quidditch Team practice started up with a vengeance. Angelina Johnson was named captain, with Fred and George as co- captains. Though the twins' only jobs were to figure out the strongest players on the opposite teams, and work just as hard as all the other team members.  
  
The first practice that night relieved quite a large load from Harry's shoulders. He hadn't been in the air for ages, it was about time he revisited his old, faithful friend. His Firebolt, that is. Training was like learning to play all over again though, Angelina had devised a totally different strategy for winning than Oliver Wood, their old captain, had.  
  
Oliver was more of a defensive specialist, naturally, since he played the Keeper position. Most plays were designed to protect the quaffle, and not score with it. Angelina decided to keep most of her successor's plays, but drew up some new ones more focused on scoring easily and frequently, being an offensive chaser herself. She even used Harry in a quite intricate one; he was supposed to perform a Wrongski Feint straight at their new keeper, sixth year Lewis Mabblehauser, to draw away some attention while the chasers scored at the opposite end of the field. Of course, this particular play was quite risky because of the chance that the golden snitch might actually be hiding behind Mabblehauser.  
  
"Of course, that is such a small possibility it's not even worth considering. Harry, if you just catch the snitch, I don't care if it had been hiding up his bum." Angelina explained heatedly. She really got worked up when Quidditch was being discussed, she was always very serious and passionate about it. But her obsession was contagious too, infecting the whole team to where they actually wanted to practice for four hours a day, including after the stuffing dinner on Halloween night. She was like Professor Callahan in that respect.  
  
Speaking of the new Defense teacher, her class was becoming a fast favorite. Most of it was bookwork, reading about dark curses and their counter-curses, copying down definitions, and every once and a while practicing a counter-curse on one another. Of course the counter-curse did nothing without the original curse having been cast, but Professor Callahan was able to tell if they had done it right or not. But the woman teaching it was so fervent and fiery about her subject that it invigorated her students, making it impossible to become bored or disinterested.  
  
But sure enough, that craze died down when the students were back in their dormitories working on the homework she'd assigned. "Three rolls of parchment on the Briflattus Curse, she's mad!" Harry whined, throwing his quill across the room and hitting Nancy Freeston in the head. His eyes lingered over her for a second after she'd thrown it back at him, taking in all the progress she'd made in the past two months. Her neck had only a few scars remaining; blackish spiderweb-type outlines criss-crossing the otherwise perfect surface. She could almost pronounce her s-'s and th-'s now, having to relearn how to use her tongue since Madame Pomfrey conjured up a new one for her. Thankfully, the run of cursed Gryffindor's had been cut off, two months now had gone by and no one else had been injured besides Neville's fingers in Transfiguration biting him when he transfigured them into snakes. But that had been inevitable.  
  
With all the exciting and challenging classes had come not-so-exciting and overly-challenging homework. Harry was swamped, with Quidditch practice four hours a day and trying to scrape in meals and classes, he was running on little or no sleep at all. The night before their first match, the one night Angelina let them off practice so they could get some rest, Harry was too anxious to sleep. 'What are the odds?' he mumbled, turning over in his bunk for the five-hundredth time. Deciding to use his book Quidditch Through the Ages to lull him into a slumber, Harry reached for his bag to get it out and suddenly realized he'd left it in the library while doing a particularly nasty essay for History of Magic.  
  
'Oh, bugger.' he stated, contemplating whether to go and fetch it or not. He could see exactly where it was, lying on the corner of the center table, if only he could telekinetically transport it up to his dormitory. but it wasn't coming. He knew he'd never fall asleep with that book floating around in his mind, and rummaging around in his trunk, he finally pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. Creeping past a drooling Neville out the door, avoiding a sleeping Crookshanks' tail, and swinging open the portrait hole slowly as not to wake the Fat Lady, Harry was on his way.  
  
Hogwarts was quite thrilling at night, the spooky staircases moving about silently on some unknown and unexplainable arrangement, and the suits of armor emitting quiet snoring noises. Harry even saw Peeves curled up in the arms of a cozy looking suit of armor, sleeping. As he walked past, the ghost groaned softly and snuggled deeper into his knight's arms.  
  
Reaching the library, Harry saw his book lying facedown in the corner of the center table, right where he'd pictured it. What he hadn't pictured was Draco Malfoy crouched down amongst the shelves. Curiosity taking over, Harry invisibly approached his enemy to see what he was up to. A strong minty smell filled his nostrils as he crept undetected towards Malfoy, who was reading an ancient, stained book.  
  
'Malfoy never reads.' Harry thought, peering over the Slytherin's shoulder to the text that must be so interesting. But just then he snapped the book shut, standing up abruptly and knocking Harry backwards. With a muffled THUD, Harry landed behind the retreating boy.  
  
Draco stopped for a second, tilting his ear towards the source of the sound. Probably having some second thoughts, the blonde-haired boy marched over to the shelf and knelt down, retrieving the book he was looking at. Sticking it under his cloak and folding his arms over it, Malfoy began walking again, glancing craftily around him as he made his way out of the library.  
  
Harry shook his head in disbelief; that was the first time he'd ever seen that guy anywhere near a book voluntarily. Of course, knowing Malfoy and his arrogant pride, he probably needed help on an assignment or something and was too ashamed to show his face around the library. Probably some absurd form of showing weakness, Harry figured. Glancing up at the section he was in, the sign said 'Item Spells.' That was another confusing piece of the puzzle, Malfoy hated learning anything that wasn't about dark magic or pain. Ah, but that did play into the whole ashamed theory.  
  
Feeling smug and resolute, Harry clutched Quidditch Through the Ages and walked back up to the Gryffindor dormitory. But he found that as soon as he climbed into bed again, he was fast asleep, the book he worked so hard to obtain lying forgotten on the floor.  
  
(^*^)  
  
The next morning Harry awoke rested and ready to kick some Hufflepuff tail. The house team ate as a group at the head of the table, awake far before anyone else. Ron and Hermione managed to drag themselves downstairs by the time Harry was done eating, and mumbled a 'good luck' in between enormous yawns. Waving, Harry followed his team out to the Quidditch Pitch to warm up.  
  
"Don't forget to go when I give the signal, don't stutter-step; and Katie watch for bludgers, they seem to like you best; Lewis dive hard to protect the goal, every point counts this game, you're crucial; Fred and George, er, just hit those bludgers, keep a firm grip on your bats, and Harry please, for God's sake, CATCH THAT RUDDY SNITCH!" Angelina bellowed, an attempt at a warm-up speech. She was twice as nervous as the whole team combined, this being her first game as captain and wanting to show that a girl was just as capable of making opponents cry.  
  
"Thanks for your instructions, Angelina, without them I don't think it would've occurred to me to catch the snitch!" Harry said lightly, trying to relax her enough to smile.  
  
She whipped her head around and glared hatefully at Harry. "Is that supposed to be funny, Potter? Oh, ha. Ha. Ha. We might just get clobbered and become the laughing stock of the school, but everyone look, Harry Potter's cracking jokes!"  
  
Harry squeaked in fear and dove behind George Weasley, who ran away leaving Harry exposed. Even he was afraid of her today. Smiling sheepishly, Harry bent over and buried his face in polishing his broom.  
  
After discussing still more game procedures, this time Harry keeping his trap shut, Lee Jordan's voice boomed outside the locker room announcing the 'Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff House Quidditch Match.' A pack of crimson and gold clad people walked out onto the field, met in the center by Hufflepuff's yellow and Madam Hooch's black and white referee robes. The heavy case containing the four balls, two desperately trying to escape, was opened and the whistle blown. The game had begun.  
  
Harry had just seen a streak of gold fly by his head, taking off into the perfectly blue cloudless sky, before mounting his broom and flying off after it. Knowing that there was no way he could catch it now, Harry gave up and began circling the game.  
  
"Quaffle taken straight away by Hufflepuff chaser Hannah Abbott, she's off like a rocket, headed right for the goa - ooh, ouch, whomped by a bludger, quaffle falls and is quickly snatched and Angelina Johnson, captain of the Gryffindor Team this year, streaks forward, Hufflepuff Justin Finch- Fletchley is barreling directly towards her, they're going to collide - amazing play by Angelina, taking a nose dive just before the collision, Finch-Fletchley looks furious - it's just her and the Hufflepuff keeper now, Tony Biscuit lunges at her, oh, bad move Tony old boy - wide open goal, come on. SHE SCORES! Gryffindor ten, Hufflepuff, a big fat goose egg!" Lee Jordan, the game commentator, announced. Cheers erupted from the stands, well heard even from the fifty feet in the air that the players were.  
  
Harry scanned the horizon, searching for any hint to a gleam of gold, but not a thing was to be seen. That was unusual, normally flirting glimpses of the snitch were spotted, nothing solid enough to hold on to, but assurances that it was still there. But so far, Harry had nothing.  
  
The new Hufflepuff seeker, last year's reserve Gregory Nott, was shadowing Harry closely. The poor guy was a replacement Cedric, trying to fill the shoes of his beloved classmate. Harry could see beads of sweat dripping from Gregory's nose and landing on his robes. 'Poor guy,' Harry thought. But then out of his peripheral vision he saw Angelina soar around in circles down below him. That was the signal.  
  
Careening towards Lewis Mabblehauser at top speed, Gregory tagging along behind him, Harry prepared to hear the words 'Gryffindor twenty, Hufflepuff zero.' Conversation hummed in the stands below Harry, fingers pointing up at him. Finally Lee's voice announced the new score, right before Harry swerved around Lewis and through a goalpost, returning to his lookout point twenty feet above the rest of the game and listening to the admiring commentary.  
  
"Fabulous play, Harry was just a decoy! Nice goal by Katie Bell - now Abbot's off with the quaffle quite angrily, zooming in and out." But Lee's speech was quickly drowned out by the rising fear in Harry's head.  
  
He had tried to slow down, but then found to his shock and dismay that he couldn't. Harry was going about thirty kilometers an hour, speeding around above the game, trying frenziedly to brake the racing Firebolt. But nothing was working.  
  
Far below their zooming friend, Hermione and Ron stared into the sky, puzzled. "Look at Harry, Ron, what's he up to?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Dunno, probably a continuation of that play they just did. Wasn't that magnificent?" Ron replied, still amazed at the previous strategic play, and still clapping avidly.  
  
"I heard you twice already, but just look at him, he's going awful fast." she said, putting her hands over Ron's and stopping his incessant applause.  
  
"Oh, well, don't be such a worry wart, Hermione." Ron said, with a note of uncertainty in his tone. Harry didn't look like he was enjoying this reckless flying in the least, and seemed positively out of control.  
  
This was not normal. Maybe he'd broken the accelerator when he sped up on that Wrongski Feint, Harry thought to himself, gripping his broom even tighter. Glancing around at his surroundings for some sort of assistance, he unexpectedly glimpsed the snitch - inside one of the Hogwarts windows.  
  
That was not supposed to happen, it was illegal and impossible for the golden snitch to leave the grounds of the field, it wasn't allowed to do so.  
  
But after that string of thought about rules and regulations, something took over and there was only one thought in Harry's head: get the snitch.  
  
He turned towards the mullioned window, instinct and determination invading his head, dashing past the game field and over the stands. Somehow it had slipped Harry's mind that he wasn't able to stop, and how much that was going to hurt him later. Pulling back on his broom as he neared, the thought suddenly returned to him. Squeezing his eyes shut and hoping he'd live, Harry swung his broom around, and his shoulder bashed through the window.  
  
Aching all over but seeing the snitch dash out the door, Harry followed it. Hallways and staircases flew by, with the golden orb just centimeters from his outstretched fingertips. Giving off a sudden burst of speed, Harry grabbed the snitch at the same moment he crashed through a heavy wooden door with realistic fruit spilling down it's front.  
  
Professor Callahan's office flashed by, and then it was gone, left behind as Harry plowed through a side door. The startled teacher looked up from her desk, and without hesitation whipped out her wand and shouted "Impedimentia!" as the fleeing form of her student went through the doorway.  
  
Harry felt himself slowing, the broom fighting against the spell. He began jerking back and forth midair, the spell vying for power over the out of control Firebolt. At last, with an earsplitting CRACK, something broke and Harry toppled to the floor, the golden snitch still clutched tightly in his fist.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Ha. I've decided that I like cliffhangers, keeps y'all on yer toes and groveling for more. And groveling is fun when you're the one being groveled at. ;) And an extra-special thank-you to AOL IM user Alchemi1976 for IMing me and saying how much he or she liked my fic. Wow, I totally didn't know anything about them, and they talked to me anyway. How refreshing, bonnie for Alchemi1976!! (can others follow suit?)  
  
Now, this is a poem I've written that comes from the depths of my soul.  
  
Saranimal writes and writes all day Saranimal slowly withers away Saranimal has fairly paid her dues So where on earth are her well-deserved reviews??  
  
Okay, so I'm no Robert Frost, but you've gotta give me an "E" for Effort. Or an "R" for review, perhaps?  
  
See y'all next Saturday, and if you like the way this story is written you should definitely read my other one. It's called STILL Pretty in Pink, and it's a continuation of the awesome 80's movie Pretty in Pink. Ya know, with Molly Ringwald and Jon Cryer? Oh, it's a classic, my fav. The fanfic's super short, just five miniscule chapters, and it's only got four miniscule reviews! So yah, read it, it's purty cool. I appreciate it, taa taa for now!  
  
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com 


	8. Detention'

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Eight  
  
A/N: *sitting at home on a Friday night like a boyfriendless loser, doing nothing. Suddenly realizes that there is something to be done! Runs to the bathroom, then comes back. THEN suddenly realizes that there is an eighth chapter to be written!* Thank goodness for FF.net, otherwise I'd have no purpose to my life, or any life to my purpose! Other than God, of course, who IS my life and purpose, but sometimes I'm a nerdburger and tend to forget that. ;)  
  
OMG, Emma Malfoy, I'm on your favorites list? *great big teary eyes* THANK YOU!! Only one word to sum up your review: WOW! ;)  
  
*Harry Potter pops up out of nowhere and starts singing that song "you don't own me. I'm not just one of your many toys. you don't own me." to the author.* And that ain't no joke. Even though it's quite a funny idea. Ha. Ha. Har.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Professor Callahan rushed over to Harry, who had collapsed on the ground after her spell had broken whatever curse had been on the broom. His precious Firebolt lie a few feet from him, still quivering and smoking slightly but otherwise unharmed.  
  
Angelina Johnson came rushing in, still clutching her broom and the quaffle, breathing heavily. "I - came in - through the window - Harry - is he all right?" she managed to say in between gasps.  
  
"I don't know, but what in Merlin's name is going on? Flying through a window on broomsticks, honestly, what do you call that?" Professor Callahan asked the girl, waving her arms about in exasperation before stooping to check on Harry.  
  
"Quidditch, Professor, it was a match. I dunno what Harry thought he was doing, but - Oh Good Lord. He's got it." Angelina said, a sudden look of amazement on her face.  
  
"Got what? Some sort of disease? A curse, a hex, what?" the teacher demanded, automatically assuming the worst.  
  
"The golden snitch." Angelina replied.  
  
"The hell?" Professor Callahan asked, shooting Angelina an annoyed look before replacing it with one of understanding. "Oh, the little walnut bugger, I get it now. Plowed through the window fetching it, did he?"  
  
"I guess so, but oh! That means we've won!" Angelina shrieked. "We won! We won, we won, we won, we won, ohmigosh we won!" And with that she hopped aboard her broom and sailed out the door, all the while screaming 'we won!'  
  
Shaking her head, Professor Callahan turned her attention on the boy at her feet. Harry was breathing rapidly and his eyes were squeezed shut as tight as could be. After performing a quick Status Mystronos spell, coming up with nothing, the teacher figured it must be fatigue. Picking up her comatose student, she made it to the door of her office before Headmaster Dumbledore met her there.  
  
"What's going on, Professor?" asked the old man, taking Harry into his own arms.  
  
"Quidditch, Albus, he broke through a school window catching the golden twitch." Professor Callahan answered.  
  
"Snitch, Victoria, but that's not the point. Is there anything else wrong with him?" Dumbledore replied, taking Harry's pulse as he talked. When he finished he began walking briskly forward, still looking at Professor Callahan.  
  
"Not to my knowledge, Status Mystronos came up negative, but I'd be out cold too if I used my own body to shatter a window. Hospital wing, I assume?" she said, following behind the flowing silvery hair.  
  
"Right away." Headmaster Dumbledore replied, turning off into a secret corridor that would get them there faster.  
  
(^*^)  
  
Harry Potter awoke an hour later, still wearing his quidditch robes, with a splitting headache. Slowly he opened his eyes, and saw six blurred scarlet images standing in front of him. Someone handed him his glasses and everything came acutely into focus, including the pain in his head.  
  
"Hey Harry, how're you feeling?" Fred asked.  
  
"We won!" Angelina squealed.  
  
"Thanks to you." George put in. Harry smiled around at his teammates, taking in their proud, beaming faces.  
  
"Always seem to give a great show along with catching the snitch, you do." Lewis Mabblehauser stammered, patting Harry gingerly on the knee.  
  
"We won!" Angelina squeaked excitedly again.  
  
"Must've been pretty painful there, Harry. Talk about a die-hard fanatic. You gonna survive?" asked Alicia Spinnet.  
  
"Oh, er, yeah, I guess so. That's the price you pay, right?" Harry answered, rubbing his temples.  
  
"Usually you can turn on a dime, why'd you go through the window like that?" Katie Bell prompted.  
  
"We still won." Angelina interjected. Harry got the feeling that if he ended up demolishing the whole school and somehow caught the snitch in the process, she wouldn't care in the least.  
  
"Didn't you guys know?" Harry asked. They all shook their heads vigorously. "The snitch was inside the window!" Gasps and protests erupted, bouncing around in Harry's pounding head.  
  
"Shh, be quieter, will you? There's a reason I'm in the hospital wing, you know." Harry declared, irritated. Everyone shut up immediately.  
  
"It's just, well, that's not possible. The snitch can't do that, it just can't." George Weasley argued.  
  
"Are you sure you just didn't see it's reflection on the window?" Alicia confirmed.  
  
"I'm positive, I saw it flying around a wardrobe. The window must've been cracked or something, it just got stuck in." Harry suggested.  
  
"Then why couldn't you just open the window and climb in, instead of breaking both the glass and yourself?" Katie inquired, looking at Harry like he did it on purpose to attract attention. As expected, that was the last thing Harry ever wanted to do, and it ended up happening anyway. Then Harry blinked, abruptly remembering the scariest part of the match.  
  
"My broom, there was something wrong. I couldn't get it to slow down after the Wrongski Feint, I think that must've broken it." Harry answered, looking meaningfully into Katie's eyes until she seemed to believe him.  
  
"Broken! Well, that's not good news." Fred said loudly, alleviate things a little bit. "I'd hate to see our seeker on one of the school's Cleansweep Sevens."  
  
"Looks fine to me." Alicia remarked, picking the broom up out of the corner and looking it over. Placing it midair, it hovered there perfectly. She even dared to hop on and take a quick spin around the room, and it didn't so much as flinch in the wrong direction.  
  
Just as Alicia was getting off, Madame Pomfrey came out of the white double doors and spotted her. "Young lady!" she gasped. "I'd like you to know that Mr. Potter here has paid dearly for his escapade with flying inside the castle, best you not start on it too. I think it's time you leave, Harry needs his rest now." The beefy nurse shooed Harry's teammates out the door, them getting in a few last waves before the door was shut.  
  
Madame Pomfrey sighed, giving Harry an agitated glare. "Now, young man, I suggest you drink this remedy without so much as a pip or I'll have your Head of House down here faster than you can say 'snitch.'" Harry obliged, managing a smile after downing the nasty stuff, and snuggled under the covers once more.  
  
That night, before dinner, Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid came to visit their friend in the hospital wing. "Brilliant catch Harry, exploding through a window like that, gonna go down in history, that one is." Ron remarked as soon as he burst into the room. Hermione gave him a disapproving glare.  
  
"He could have been killed, Ronald." she spat. Ron's freckles quickly melted into his reddening face, and he glared daggers at his shoes.  
  
"But I didn't mean to, it wasn't my fault." Harry said, gaining both of their attentions from hating each other. "I think I broke the accelerator on my Firebolt, because after the Wrongski Feint it wouldn't slow down. I couldn't stop, and then I saw the snitch inside that room and went after it. I'm such a prat, I didn't even think about how the window would be in the way." Hermione looked concerned at this information, and Ron curious.  
  
"Are yeh alrigh' there, 'Arry?" Hagrid asked in his gruff but warm voice, giant crocodile tears streaming from his tiny, beetle-black eyes.  
  
"Oh, I'm fine. A bit shaken up from speeding along uncontrollably, but otherwise I'm fine. That'll teach me to be a speed demon, right?"  
  
"I don't know, Harry. do you think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might've.?" Hermione asked, leaving her question off at the end. But they all knew what she meant.  
  
"At Hogwarts? Come on Hermione, use your head." Ron said, for once correcting his brainy friend.  
  
She pursed her lips and tapped her toe at him in annoyance. "I was just saying that -"  
  
"No you two, set'le down. Yeh don't want Poppy a'comin in 'ere an' getting all riled up." Hagrid ordered, and Ron and Hermione shut up. Harry knew that it was just their way of worrying about him, though.  
  
"We won though, isn't that great?" Harry said after a silent pause.  
  
"Yeah, Gryffindor's two hundred points up! We're a shoe in for the house cup." Hermione remarked, and Ron nodded.  
  
"That's great, at least we got the lead in exchange for my seeking exploits." Harry said, rubbing his shoulder where it had been forced through the window. "D'you think I'll be able to come to dinner tonight?"  
  
"Dunno, 'Arry, Poppy seems pretty fussy about yeh. 'At is, fussier than usual." Hagrid answered with a wink.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore says I should ask Harry how he feels first." the nurse replied, marching through the double doors as Hagrid made his statement. Harry heard the big man mutter 'speak of the devil' under his breath, and stifled a laugh.  
  
"I feel fine, really, for having just gone through a window." Harry said, sitting up and looking at Madame Pomfrey expectantly.  
  
"Nonsense, I know for a fact that you have a splitting headache and won't be able to walk straight for a couple hours. Honestly, the Headmaster thinks you kids can bounce back like the dickens." the nurse griped, bustling over to Harry and feeling his head.  
  
"Oh, but you see, I can!" Harry responded, leaping out of bed and jumping up and down. But the woman had been right, the pain in his head doubled and he swayed dangerously back and forth when the bouncing ceased. "You see? I'm f - fine." Harry said, sitting back down on his bed.  
  
Madame Pomfrey glared disapprovingly at her charge, then shook her head. "Promise me you'll at least take it easy," she ordered. "Oh, who am I kidding? That's as unlikely as asking a Whomping Willow not to whomp. Go on, scurry off now, before I change my mind and use the Body-Binding curse to keep you here." Harry smiled at her warmly before getting up and, with the assistance of Ron and Hermione, walking out of the room.  
  
Hagrid stayed behind in the hospital wing to talk to Madame Pomfrey about getting an ointment for a rash he'd received recently. "Can't 'magine where it came from, I'm on'y 'lergic to min' leaves an' Parry-Bee'le Juice, I haven't used 'em in a potion lately."  
  
"Probably got mixed up in the food somehow, I'll just give you a quick shot and it'll be cleared up in no time." The nurse answered, bustling into the storeroom and emerging seconds later with a hypodermic needle.  
  
"Sh-shot?" Hagrid stammered, his voice squeaking in a terrified way. Harry, Ron, and Hermione smiled pitifully at the big man before turning around and leaving.  
  
The three of them went down to dinner, walking slowly to accommodate their injured friend. "I don't know Harry, I seriously think you should write Sirius about this." Hermione recommended on the way.  
  
"It's nothing, I was just being thick and reckless. Relax, I don't want Sirius coming up here and endangering himself because his godson is an imbecile." Harry answered, wanting her to lay off. The last thing he wanted right now were suspicions that Voldemort was after him personally again.  
  
"All right, but he told you to write him if anything strange happened. Anything, don't you think this qualifies?" Hermione persisted.  
  
"I had a bologna sandwich for lunch today, but you don't see me writing him about that now do you? Please, Hermione, he's my Godfather. I think I have the right to choose what information is positively useless to him." Harry argued  
  
"Aargh, honestly! Harold James Potter, sometimes you are completely brainless!" Hermione erupted, throwing up her hands. Then she stomped off, muttering something that sounded like 'boys' under her breath.  
  
Ron looked at Harry, and raised an eyebrow, deciding that it would be best if no words were said. So they walked to the Great Hall in silence.  
  
By Monday Harry felt nearly one hundred percent again. His shoulder ached, but it was nothing a Soothing Spell wouldn't numb. Students were going absolutely berserk over Harry's antics with the window, though, randomly clapping him on the back when he passed by in the crowded halls. Even Professor McGonagall reprimanded him with a half amused look on her face. So Harry was astounded when he received a letter over his porridge one morning saying that he was going to serve his detention that following night.  
  
"I can't believe it, that wasn't even my fault!" Harry whined, throwing his letter down into Hermione's pancakes by accident.  
  
"You still broke a window, mind you. And an imported one at that, I'm surprised they don't make you pay for it." Hermione reprimanded, removing the syrup with a Cleansing Spell and holding it out to him. Harry shot her a look, and savagely grabbed the detention slip from her hand.  
  
It said for Harry to meet the Professor on duty at the Diggory Greenhouse at ten o'clock, in order to serve his sentence. Grumbling, Harry trudged down the stairs and out the castle doors at ten 'til, cursing anything he could think of. His broom, the snitch, even cabbage ended up receiving blame for Harry's punishment. Rounding the corner of the greenhouse, Harry spotted the slouched silhouette of Severus Snape's body waiting for him.  
  
"Hello Potter." he spat, his thin lips curling up into a devilish smile. Inside Harry was groaning wildly, but, not wanting to make his situation any worse than it already was, he sighed and followed the hated professor into the dark night.  
  
(^*^)  
  
At ten o'clock on a Tuesday, there was only homework being done in the Gryffindor common room. All mad partying about the Quidditch team's win had become rather redundant over the weekend, and it was back to the mundane school life. Hermione and Ron were busy working on their Transfiguration homework, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were engrossed in a game of wizard's chess, and George, Fred, and Nancy were working on a business proposition for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The twins and their partner were huddled together, whispering intensely.  
  
Then George pulled a small candy out of his bag, labeled with a note that said 'don't eat me.' Thinking it was some sort of a new invention from Nancy, he smiled knowingly at his brother, smartly unwrapping the acid green taffy-like candy and popping it in his mouth and handing him the note.  
  
"What's this?" Fred asked, looking at the note quizzically, before it curled up at the ends like it was burning and in a puff of smoke, disappeared. Nancy shrugged.  
  
"I dunno, I thought it was from you." she answered.  
  
"Huh?" Fred said quickly, whipping his head around and bunching up his eyebrows worriedly. "I thought it was from you!"  
  
"Oh God." Nancy whispered, and Fred and her slowly turned to look at George. But he wasn't there.  
  
He had fallen to the floor, his eyes rolled back in his head with pain, convulsing and retching madly. Nancy glanced at his feet and saw to her horror that they were melting, his shoes lying abandoned next to him filled with an acid green goop. There was a lime vapor coming off of him, traveling slowly up his body, melting his pant legs and exposing bare bone, before that melted too.  
  
Fred knelt down to his brother and shook him frantically, but he didn't show any signs of acknowledging him.  
  
"Help! It's happening again, he's cursed, oh dear- HELP!" Nancy shouted, gaining the whole common room's attention. Several others began shouting at the top of their lungs, and Neville ran right out the portrait hole. Ron ran forward and saw what was happening, and his mouth dropped open, crying out soundlessly.  
  
Realization jolted him into action, and Ron grabbed his wand and performed the Status Mystronos spell. A picture played in his head of a poisonous green lava-like substance snaking its way up George's body. He had no idea what he was doing, but something took over and the counter- curse came out of Ron's mouth.  
  
The lime vapor was put out and George laid there, his legs melted up to his knees, his pants fused in with the skin on his thighs. It was a sickening sight.  
  
Suddenly Professor Callahan burst into the room, followed shortly by Neville. "What's wrong?" she said, immediately dashing over to the red- haired boy on the floor.  
  
"A - a curse, Acideratorr, I did the Status Mystronos and countered it, but oh, look at him. he melted." Ron explained, the horrified expression he was displaying being copied by his teacher. A single tear fell from his face and landed on his brother's hand.  
  
George was immovable, his legs had merged with the carpet making it impossible to transport him to the hospital wing. Neville was sent off again to get Madame Pomfrey, while Professor Callahan performed all the healing magic she trusted herself to do correctly. The first thing she cast was a Pain-Relieving spell, and George's face relaxed a bit.  
  
Ron slowly stood up and gazed down at the scene; his brother half- melted into the rug, Professor Callahan checking vital signs, and Nancy Freeston sobbing and clutching George's hand. Not being able to take it any more, Nancy turned away and stood up, and Ron gathered her up in his arms. She wept into his shoulder, squeezing him tightly, and Ron squeezed the former victim even tighter. One thing was running through his mind over and over, besides the vision of the green lava killing his brother: why?  
  
Professor Callahan glanced around and began giving orders. "Hermione, go get Headmaster Dumbledore, Fred, apply this to George's head, Harry Potter, go to my office and get my black bag, you know where it is."  
  
"But Professor, Harry's not here." Hermione said, pausing just before she was about to run out of the room.  
  
"What? Not here, where in the world is he then?" the teacher asked, glaring at Hermione and looking very irritated.  
  
"You know, he's serving his detention tonight." Hermione explained, taking a confused step towards her professor. But her worst fears were confirmed with Professor Callahan's next words.  
  
"What detention?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Double whammy cliffhanger! Oooh, are y'all going to hate me! Tee hee, this is so fun. I know something you don't know. the conclusion to what exactly is going on here! You're probably confused beyond belief, about what's up with Harry's so called 'detention,' George's curse, and who precisely is doing this to our beloved Gryffindor's! Hahahahahaaaa, you'll find out soon enough, my dearies. Soon enough. But for now just sit tight and wait for my continued installments, I swear they're coming as fast as they can!  
  
If you've got any guesses to what's going on, I'd love to hear them and tell you how far off you really are! Or, if you're clairvoyant, you might be right on the money, who knows? Review, review, review, thank you, thank you, thank you!  
  
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com  
  
P.S. Does anyone know any really good Competitive Acting monologue websites? I'm looking, but there's so much crap to sift through. Lemme know, thank you so much! 


	9. Mistakes and Misjudgements

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Nine  
  
A/N: *gloating over success of readers* Y'all are great! Yay-rah, yippie skippie, and fabbity fab fab to you all! HAHAHAHAHA!! LOL, I love how everyone automatically freaked over what happened to George, and got down on hands and knees and begged with me, that's great.  
  
Emma Malfoy: I feel special and *tingly* when I read your reviews! Flattery is grand, love it, thanks bundles! I'm glad I make you whip out the big reviews, I like 'em big. Erm, the reviews I mean. yah, moving on now.  
  
NightDreamerl1010: Nice prediction, is that truly Snape, but hmm. IS IT!?!?! Mua-ah-ahh, you shall see. I dunno where I get those curses, they just come out. I think of something horrible, then write it, or something like that. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Totally_tubular_girl: How can George be your sex slave when he's my little HONEYBUN?! Huh?! Hehe, and it's great to know you're still a virgin, stay that way! That is, until you get married and live happily ever after with your Georgie-poo. ;)  
  
P.S. to who this is, you know who you are: SO TOTALLY :(  
  
To own Harry Potter, or not to own Harry Potter. That is the question. actually, I don't have a choice in the matter since I wasn't born with the name Joanna Kathlene Rowling. (if that is indeed what JK is). Poo in your shoe.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry Potter was walking behind Professor Snape when a loud screaming came from Gryffindor Tower that was well heard outside. "What was that? It came from my dormitory!" Harry said, forgetting his vow to keep silent throughout this detention.  
  
The Potions Master's face paled even whiter than usual, and he stared at Harry intently, as if making a serious decision. "Come on, we better hurry." he whispered, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him along faster. Harry was surprised, and appalled, by the fact that he was holding hands with the hated teacher, but swallowed his opinions and conceded to be treated as a four year old.  
  
Into the darkness Snape pulled his student, and nothing was said for ten minutes. Finally, Harry dared to ask, "Where are we going?"  
  
"Anywhere away from here, Potter." the man replied, and Harry was jolted into silence by the desperate tone in his voice. It was almost as if he was running away from something. but what?  
  
Harry saw that they weren't headed to the Forbidden Forest, but the opposite direction. Past the row of shabby greenhouses and to a strip of woods that Harry had never seen before. Strange plants grew taller and taller up around him, some only to his knees, and others past his ears. Harry even thought he heard one snoring, but was walking past it in seconds and passed it off as an illusion. This must be Professor Sprout's Herbology garden, Harry thought, figuring that that could be the only explanation to the odd rows and assortment of magical plants.  
  
After crossing a small creek, avoiding a patch of Tackling Thistlebrush, and consulting the Four-Point spell many times, they finally came upon a small, run-down cabin. Snape unlocked the intricate wizard's lock (it couldn't be opened by an Alohomora spell), and the two stepped inside.  
  
Immediately Harry screamed in terror.  
  
(^*^)  
  
Victoria Callahan rushed to the window as soon as Hermione's information clicked in her mind. Harry Potter was off somewhere on a phony detention, alone, with no one to protect him. For all she knew, it could be.  
  
"Professor, what's going on here?" the voice of Poppy Pomfrey said, and Profesor Callahan turned around to see the old nurse stooped over the body of George Weasley, assessing the damage with her wand.  
  
"Acideratorr Curse, another cursed candy by what I gather. Pretty nasty, but not as bad as it could be. His brother Ron countered it before it got past his knees." Professor Callahan reported, running her fingers through her curly hair absentmindedly. On the outside she might have appeared all business, but on the inside she was bawling with rage and confusion. This wasn't fair, these poor students were being attacked and nearly killed, it was almost more than she could take.  
  
"Oh Lord, another one. Poor dear." Madame Pomfrey remarked, performing a separating spell on George's legs to detach them from the floor. Conjuring up a floating stretcher, she magicked the boy onto it and hurried out of the room.  
  
Left lying on the floor were George's shoes and what used to be his legs, liquefied and combined with the carpet. Professor Callahan performed a quick Cleansing Spell, which mopped up the goop but left a horrid lime stain on the floor. But she couldn't deal with that now, Harry Potter was on the loose and in danger somewhere, and she'd better find him before it was too late.  
  
There wasn't enough time to inform anyone else about where she was going, so Professor Callahan mentioned it to Hermione before bustling out the portrait hole. "I'm off to look for Harry; Hermione, you're in charge. Nobody leaves this common room, I mean it. Use the Body-Bind for all I care, just so long as not one single soul removes itself from this room. Understand?"  
  
Hermione nodded vigorously, visibly shaken up about George but eager to prove herself to her teacher.  
  
On her way downstairs, Professor Callahan ran into Mr. Filch, the Hogwarts groundskeeper. "Seen Snape lately, Professor?" he asked as she hurried by. "I haven't seen him all night, and I need some papers from him." The woman shook her head and continued onward, and Mr. Filch shrugged and continued mopping.  
  
She burst out the castle door and ran towards the Forbidden Forest, knowing that it was the first place a Death Eater would take a captive. But, reaching its outskirts, a funny feeling told her to turn around. Call it teacher's intuition, but her feet marched her away from those dark trees and past the immense lake, in the direction of the greenhouses. A quick evaluation of the wet mud surrounding the small gardens told her that two people had been there, one with an average sized foot, which she assumed was Harry's, and another which was rather large and the toes pointed in a bit. She thought and thought, following the tracks at the same time, about anyone at all she'd seen before, when suddenly it dawned on her.  
  
Severus Snape.  
  
He was rather tall, thus the large shoeprints, and walked slightly pigeon-toed. Could it be him? Mr. Filch had said himself that Severus was missing that night. slowly, conflicting thoughts began to sneak into the sensible woman's head: Severus did have connections to the dark world, NO, she wouldn't use past stereotypes and mistakes to figure this out, it would only muddle everything together. She had been the one to defend him, for heaven's sake! But then again, it was common sense to use every piece of the puzzle in order to solve it.  
  
Finally the dam broke, and the mean little thoughts flooded Professor Callahan's mind. He could be delivering Harry to the Dark Lord, torturing him with an Unforgivable Curse, or sacrificing him right now. A meek voice suggested that he might just be giving out detention, and the teacher allowed it to stay there, just so she could feel like she was being fair and levelheaded about this. But, truly, she didn't believe it in the least.  
  
Professor Callahan quickened her pace.  
  
After crossing a stream, winding around a patch of Tackling Thistlebrush, and rechecking the path of footprints many times, she spotted a wooden shed about a hundred yards away. Then a piercing scream shattered the night, and the woman broke into a dead run.  
  
Throwing open the door, she saw Harry Potter standing amidst all sorts of cruel tormenting instruments; manacles, samurai swords, The Draining Cup (a wizarding tool that, when drunk out of, sucks the victim's blood out), and dozens of bloodstained books lined the shelves. Severus Snape stood there, clutching Harry's shoulders tightly, and trying to gain control of him.  
  
"NOOOOO!!!" Professor Callahan screamed, and took out her wand menacingly. "Expelliarmus!" she shouted, and the Potions Master shot across the room, landing on a nastily sharp and rusty golden dagger.  
  
Harry turned, eyes round with confusion, before Professor Callahan grabbed his hand and tore out of the cabin. Harry was protesting, tugging away and looking back at his abductor, but the teacher kept a firm grip and ran even faster. In no time at all they broke out of the woods and found Headmaster Dumbledore running towards them across the grounds.  
  
"Oh, thank God Albus, you're here." Professor Callahan said with relief. "Snape kidnapped Harry Potter, he was going to torture him, give him over to The Dark Lord no doubt, had him in a shed back there in the woods filled with the most God awful things you've ever seen -"  
  
"Victoria, do you have any idea what you're talking about?" Headmaster Dumbledore demanded, seething with more rage than Harry had ever seen him display before.  
  
"Of course, I skewered the bastard with a Disarming Spell myself." the woman answered, looking proud of herself. However, Dumbledore looked horrified.  
  
"Severus." the headmaster said, striking off into the night.  
  
"What in the world?" Professor Callahan inquired, then started marching her charge up to the castle. But finally, Harry overcame his confusion enough to speak.  
  
"What - can you - how did you know Snape was going to do that to me?" Harry asked, choosing one of the many questions in his head.  
  
"Well, it was pretty obvious from the place he took you to, Harry. Just looking at those contraptions. ugh, it gives me the shivers." she answered, steering Harry around the marshy area of the lake.  
  
"Oh that? That was Argus Filch's old storage shed." Harry remarked matter-of-fact. His leader stopped dead in her tracks.  
  
"What?" she asked, glaring meaningfully at him.  
  
"That cabin-type thing, it was Mr. Filch's old storage place. Said so on the door." Harry declared, and Professor Callahan's stomach did a flip- flop.  
  
"But still, you screamed because."  
  
"Because I was being led through the forest at night, and a bug brushed against my face and I flipped out."  
  
"So Severus hadn't tried to hurt you?"  
  
"No, of course not. But from what you told Dumbledore, I would've been."  
  
"What I told Dumbledore was a crock, oh God, I've made a terrible mistake. Severus, I could have killed him!" she shrieked in dismay, letting go of Harry's hand and taking off after the Headmaster. Harry shook his head, wondering what exactly was true or not. Was Professor Snape trying to kill him and take him to Voldemort? And that look on Dumbledore's face. something was terribly wrong, and everyone knew but Harry. Sighing dejectedly, Harry entered the castle and walked up the long set of stairs. Upon entering the common room, Harry's brain about exploded with bewilderment.  
  
Everyone was crying. Everyone, especially Fred, Nancy, and Ron, who were huddled beside a disturbing emerald stain on the carpet. Harry saw Hermione sitting in a chair by the portrait hole, standing guard officially. When she laid eyes on him, Hermione jumped up and hugged him fiercely.  
  
"Oh thank goodness Harry, I thought you were dead!" she yelped, crying into his robes.  
  
"Evidently so does everyone else. What's going on here?" Harry asked.  
  
"It's George, it got him. A curse, Harry, he melted." she explained, shrinking at her last words.  
  
"Melted? You - you mean George Weasley's cursed, he was next?" said Harry, disbelieving. Hermione nodded solemnly. The bottom of Harry's stomach seemed to both swell to bursting and disappear altogether in the same instant, he'd never imagined the curse would hurt someone so close to him.  
  
"So what happened with your sham of a detention?" she asked worriedly, and Harry ripped his gaze from the floor to look at her.  
  
"You probably know more than I do." Harry said, shaking his head. "I met Professor Snape by the greenhouses, and we were walking away when I heard screaming coming from the tower room."  
  
"That must have been when George was cursed. oh Harry, it was so horrible." Hermione whispered, biting her lip to keep from crying.  
  
"Okay, so then Snape grabbed my hand and we ran off into the woods to Mr. Filch's old storage shed, and Hermione, he's got manacles in there, and all sorts of torturing devices. I know he's always been wanting 'the old way' of discipline resorted, but who'd have thought it was like that?" Harry relayed to Hermione.  
  
Her bloodshot eyes grew even wider at the news. "So Snape was taking you there to - to use those things on you?"  
  
"Can't be anything worse than what Neville, Nancy, or George had to go through." Harry remarked bitterly. After that, there were no words to say. Such a sympathy was in their hearts that they felt as if they were the ones that had suffocated; burning and melting under the pressure and foreboding of it all.  
  
Suddenly Hermione burst into sobs more extreme than any yet, and leapt into Harry's arms. "It's not fair." She kept whispering into his shoulder, and Harry rested a comforting hand on his friend's back.  
  
(^*^)  
  
When the clock struck midnight Harry lay in his dormitory, wide awake and mind whirring. Everyone had gone to bed early that night, the evening being both emotionally and physically exhausting. Harry heard his roommates Seamus, Dean, and Neville breathing steadily in a deep slumber. and one with shuddering gasps and fearful whimpers, belonging to Ron.  
  
No matter how many times he'd complained about being the youngest of four brothers, and the funny antics of Fred and George, Harry knew that Ron loved it too. Having all those people looking out for him, loving him. Harry couldn't be more envious.  
  
Ron began tossing violently in his bunk below Harry, his breathing becoming more of a desperate gulp, and pleading mumbles drifted up to Harry's listening ears. With a final shuddering gasp, Ron awoke.  
  
"Harry?" he called softly, his throat tight.  
  
"Ron, are you all right?" Harry answered.  
  
"It's just a dream." Ron said, his voice betraying the true severity.  
  
"Nightmare?" Harry guessed.  
  
Ron sighed and turned over. "Yeah."  
  
"About the curse?" Harry pressed.  
  
"Yeah." Ron said again.  
  
There was a long silence then, with Harry thinking over the words to say to his grieving friend. But nothing eloquent came. "I know. How many times I've seen Voldemort's killings . at least you were able to save him, Ron. He'll be fine." Harry comforted, having nothing else to say but the truth. But at these times, that's all that's needed.  
  
"I guess so." Ron said, mulling it over in his mind. Harry dropped his hand over the side of his bunk, letting it hang above Ron's head. Ron swatted it lovingly before nestling further under the covers, heaving one last groan and then finally falling asleep.  
  
(^*^)  
  
Around the same time as Ron's nightmares and Harry's insomnia, Severus Snape was lying in the Hospital Wing with three very worried teachers standing over him.  
  
"The Daltheius Dagger, dark and noxious to the core." Headmaster Dumbledore declared, fingering the beautiful gold knife on the table, inlaid with rubies and intricately carved with mysterious runes, their meanings long lost by ancient scholars.  
  
"His situation's grave. A magical object like that, it's meant to kill. I'm a damn good nurse, and I've got a cure for nearly everything, but there's no way to reverse death, Albus. You know that." Madame Pomfrey declared solemnly, shaking her head.  
  
In between the two stood Victoria Callahan, her hand cupped to her mouth and tears running down her nose. "I - I didn't mean to. I just jumped to conclusions, assuming the worst just because of some stupid label he's got."  
  
"You should have come to me first, for all you know he was just administering detention!" the headmaster said angrily, tugging at his beard to keep from erupting.  
  
Professor Callahan nodded with remorse. "Was he?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I don't exactly know what he was doing. Earlier this week, Severus came to me discussing some information he'd gathered on a recent Death Eater's meeting. It seems that Lord Voldemort is on the search for Harry again, but this time for pure satisfactory vengeance. Severus had found something out about a plan. something important."  
  
"Do you know what it was?" the professor inquired, turning her body towards Dumbledore expectantly. Though small, there were still doubts in her mind about if the potions master had lied or not. It would be so easy for him pull a triple-crosser and work for The Dark Lord again.  
  
"Sadly, no. He refused to tell me for fear he might endanger my life." Dumbledore replied. "He was the only one who knew about this plan to capture Harry. Him and Voldemort. He was our chance to avoid a murder, and now."  
  
"Do you think he was going to tell Harry about it tonight?" she prompted.  
  
"It's what I would do, the boy deserves to know. For the last five years, we've tried to keep knowledge from Harry and he's always found out. It's his right to be aware, and our right to make sure he is."  
  
"I just can't believe I was that foolish. Severus may be. and it's all my. argh, I'm so stupid!" Professor Callahan burst out, behaving a bit childishly and out of character for her. Madame Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore gave her wary looks and raised their eyebrows.  
  
"Well, we can't tell anything until the morning. Best to get some sleep and be ready for any news to come... any news at all, whether good or bad." the old man recommended, placing his arm around Madame Pomfrey's neck. "You coming, Victoria?"  
  
"Oh, I think I'll just stay here for a moment longer. Go on ahead." the young woman said, motioning her colleagues out. Dumbledore gave her a weak and forgiving smile before exiting with the nurse.  
  
After watching the door close, Victoria turned to Severus on the hospital bed. He looked as if death itself were laying the shroud over his limp body. Gingerly, she sat down beside him and brushed the hair away from his eyes.  
  
"Severus. How could I have ever doubted you?" she whispered, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. She leaned forward gently and pressed her lips against his forehead, a few rogue teardrops falling onto his face. Lovingly, Professor Callahan wiped them away and settled in for a grievous, sleepless night beside him.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Everybody say it with me now. "Awww." You like? Poor Victoria Callahan, I'm putting her through a lot. But that's one of my pet peeves, people who judge others by past mistakes or simple stereotypes that don't apply. Besides cheerleaders. All cheerleaders are evil. ;)  
  
Just kidding, a SELECT FEW from my school are just anuses, that's all. Please forgive me!  
  
So, yah, I've started writing yet ANOTHER Harry Potter Book five for FF.net. It's called Harry Potter and the Locket of Trinity, and I swear Joke that Killed has got dibs on my writing time, but if you want, please, please, PLEASE go read my other one! It's just as cool, you have my word on that.  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com 


	10. Healing

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Ten  
  
A/N: Taa-daa, I've reached the double digits in my chapters, baby! And I doubt I'm even half through. mua-ah-ahhh, you have a while to put up with my nonsense yet! Hopefully this is good news to you all. ??  
  
Wow, you people really give mixed reviews. It's like, flame-fan mail. I love it, don't get me wrong, it's just so stinkin funny! It's like "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO GEORGE, YOU'RE SICK!!" and then two sentences later, "I love your writing, never stop." I love how I've got all y'all's feelings discombobulated! My evil plan is working.  
  
Boromir: I know, for some reason I like Alan Rickman a lot better than the other scary image of Snape. Have you ever seen Sense and Sensibility? It's so good, and he's kinda cute in it. semi-crush!  
  
This one's for Emma Malfoy and Chibi Dude - Here's your bloody hint: This is connected to who you think it is, but probably not for the reasons you think it is. ya get it? Now off, shoo!  
  
If ownership of Harry Potter were gasoline, I wouldn't have enough to power an ant's motorcycle around the outside of a penny! (Translation: HP ain't mine, yo)  
  
* * * * *  
  
Over the next few days, there became a noticeable change in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Professor Callahan's speeches lost their momentum, their sparkle. So did she; weary bags developed under her eyes and her voice softened until she was a meek witch who most likely wouldn't frighten a mouse, let alone her students. Attendance became slack, homework wasn't being done or handed in, and still she didn't seem to care. Her mistake in judging Severus's intentions made her lose her confidence in herself, and she never got any sleep because she spent each night at his bedside. Professor Callahan was definitely going nowhere, fast.  
  
One mid-November day Hogwarts awoke to three inches of fresh, powdery snow. Care of Magical Creatures was reduced to building snowmen around Hagrid's enormous pumpkins. That morning in the Defense class, only Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville showed up. The rest of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fifth years, who should have been in that room as well, could be heard frolicking outside.  
  
Harry tentatively approached Professor Callahan's desk and looked expectantly at her, waiting for acknowledgement so he could speak. His only reply was a light snore from his teacher. She was out cold facedown on her desk, and Harry could guess that it was the first real sleep she'd had in at least a week. The four of them tiptoed out of the room and, once outside, Ron was ready to make a beeline outside to join in on the fun.  
  
"Wait, Ron, don't you think this would be a perfect time to visit George?" Hermione suggested, grabbing his elbow. Ron's face paled at the mention of his brother's name, and clearly he had expected the missing twin to be out there right now with his other half, Fred. On perfect days like this it was easy to forget that there was a tragedy in their midst.  
  
Without a word Ron changed direction and led the group to the hospital wing, where Headmaster Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey were busy fussing over somebody concealed behind a heavy curtain. George's bed was just inside the door, the lumpy body under the sheets ending unnervingly at the knees. For a full minute the four of them just stood there at the foot of his bed, hardly breathing, taking in George's serenely dreaming face oblivious to what reality had inflicted him with. Then Ron moved alongside his brother and perched on the bed next to him. The bed squeaked softly under the added weight, and Harry heard the whispers beyond the screen abruptly stop. Seconds later, Madame Pomfrey emerged looking quite surprised.  
  
"What on earth are you all doing here at this hour?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips huffily.  
  
"Professor Callahan's napping, and nobody else showed up to class. We let her be and decided to come visit George, if that's all right with you ma'am." Harry answered. The nurse's face softened, and if it was the mention of Professor Callahan finally sleeping or the "ma'am" part, she let them stay.  
  
"How is he?" Ron whispered, still gazing at his brother's lack of leg.  
  
"Improving. I'm not going to lie to you; I don't think I can save his legs. A recently discovered spell might allow me to make something normal looking to put there, but it's very advanced and very tricky, and nine times out of ten comes out horribly wrong." said Madame Pomfrey. "There's a conference with your parents this weekend about what to do." Harry suddenly realized what must be running through the Weasley family's heads right now. Bill and his newlywed wife receiving the news, Charlie stopping between dragon-capturing to hear that his little brother melted, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hearing about their beloved boy. poor people just going on with their own lives until one evil decision of fate selected their family member. It all seemed so random, and yet designed to a painstakingly deliberate level at the same time.  
  
"He's gonna live though, right? He'll be okay?" Ron asked fearfully.  
  
"Of course," Madame Pomfrey answered, her eyes twinkling at Ron's worried face. "He's doing fine."  
  
(A/N: I just know y'all are breathing sighs of relief right now, and putting down the torches you were going to flame me with if George died. Actually, that thought never occurred to me, he's too cool a guy!)  
  
After a few more minutes of staring at George, they decided it was time to leave. Making arrangements to meet there tomorrow during lunch, everyone was walking out the door when Headmaster Dumbledore's voice rang out. "Oh Harry, can you come here for a second?" he called, and Harry turned around, surprised.  
  
"Uh - yeah, sure." Harry replied, glancing at his friends before vanishing behind the curtain. Who he saw lying in the bed there made questions and answers pop up in his head.  
  
"Professor Snape." breathed Harry. The Potions Master lay there, looking paler than was natural, even for him.  
  
"Professor Callahan misunderstood Severus' intentions that night, and cast a Disarming Spell that sent him flying across the room into this, the Dalthieus Dagger." Dumbledore explained, saying things that were both new and old news to Harry.  
  
"What were his intentions?" Harry asked, his eyes bunching up confusedly.  
  
"Harry, you know that Severus attends Death Eater meetings regularly as a spy. Well, he discovered a plan that Voldemort is going to execute - he's after you again, Harry." said the Headmaster, but Harry showed no signs of this frightening him. "Severus knew the procedure that Voldemort had planned, but he refused to tell me because that would put my life in danger. He was the only one who knew, and the only one who could save you. He issued that 'detention' so he could have a chance to tell you in private."  
  
"Then why didn't Professor Callahan know that?" inquired Harry, looking at Dumbledore pleadingly.  
  
"Severus only told me about it, and I had to force it out of him. He's adamant about endangering people with information; and made me swear not to tell anyone unless it was an utter emergency, or if he. got into trouble." the old man said.  
  
Harry understood now. Professor Callahan had been wrong. Snape had taken him to that shed to be alone, not to hurt him. Voldemort wanted to get Harry. Again. That information was so important, and now Harry's life preserve was lying in the hospital, inches from death himself.  
  
"Harry, I want you to be safe. Voldemort can use anything to hurt you, to bring you to him. We found that out last year," Dumbledore began. "Half of me wants to put you under house arrest, have a bodyguard follow you around everywhere, and make you quit the quidditch team." Harry's eyes widened, and the word 'unfair' was on his lips when the headmaster held up a hand.  
  
"But the other half of me thinks that that would be cowering in fear of Voldemort, and letting him win, in a way. You're a responsible and powerful wizard, Harry, and I know you're as prepared as you can be for an attack. I'm so torn, and that's why I'm letting you decide. It's your choice." When Dumbledore had finished, his face was so full of decision and expectancy that Harry had to look away as to not be influenced.  
  
No quidditch. that felt like it would be more punishment than even Voldemort could inflict. but then again it was Harry's life, nothing to gamble with. If Harry had found out about the TriWizard Cup beforehand, would he have prevented it? Would he have turned around and said "No thanks, now guard me twenty-four seven while I sit here and watch." Could he have saved Cedric and prevented another rise of The Dark Lord?  
  
"This isn't the past." A little voice insisted in the back of his head, and Harry knew it was right. He couldn't change anything now, and even if he had refused to be in the TriWizard Tournament, Voldemort would have found another way to get him. And besides, cowering in fear wasn't Harry's style.  
  
"I'll keep my life the way it is now," answered Harry at length. "And don't give me a bodyguard. Anyway, they wouldn't be able to help me if the Dark Lord really put his mind to it." Also, Harry didn't want anyone else dead because of him, but he left that unsaid.  
  
"It's your choice, Harry." Dumbledore repeated, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder and looking into those green eyes. A mental battle was clearly raging behind the old man's spectacles, deciding whether to adhere to what he'd said or not. After a moment, he seemed to reach a resolution and slowly stood up.  
  
"Is he going to be all right?" Harry asked fearfully, turning to the old man. The boy never thought he'd actually want the hated teacher to pull through and live to torture him another day, but this was different; almost deeper, somehow.  
  
"Well, Poppy's got him stabilized, and the poison's out of his bloodstream. Now we're just waiting. he's got to awaken sometime, let's pray for good timing to bestow it's presence once again, shall we?" Dumbledore remarked. After a second longer of staring at the steadily rising and falling chest, a sign that things might just go on, the Headmaster placed his hand on Harry's shoulder.  
  
"Well then, you better be going. Don't you have Divination after lunch?" he instructed.  
  
Harry groaned. "Yes. I assume that I have to go, don't I?"  
  
"Naturally." the old man answered, steering Harry out the door and into the corridor, where the student walked down the stairs and to the Great Hall, which was just starting to fill up for lunch.  
  
"What was that about, Harry?" Hermione asked when he sat down beside her.  
  
"Oh, not much of anything. Stuff about school, quidditch, nothing big." Harry replied, helping himself to a ladleful of vegetable beef stew. Ron and Hermione traded looks, but left it at that.  
  
On Friday evening, the entire Weasley family showed up at the castle door. Ron had allowed Harry and Hermione to accompany them to the meeting in Dumbledore's office, since they were practically family anyhow.  
  
"Greetings." the headmaster said solemnly when the group reached his office, and everyone took a seat.  
  
"How is George?" Mrs. Weasley blurted out even before she sat down. Dumbledore didn't look taken aback in the least.  
  
"He'll live, if that's what you mean. He's healing quite nicely. I trust you understand exactly what the Acideratorr Curse does?" the old man inquired, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nodded slowly, along with Bill, Corky, Charlie, Percy, and Ginny. Ron nodded slower than the others; he knew all too well, having seen it first hand.  
  
"Well, the curse only made it as far as George's knees, and thanks are due to Ron for that. He assessed the damage and countered it very quickly." Immediately Ron was buried under kisses from his mother and sister and disbelieving, and admiring, looks from his brothers.  
  
"Good job, son." Mr. Weasley said proudly, smiling weakly as best he could in that situation.  
  
"Why I called all of you here to this meeting is to decide what method of treatment to take. As you might know, pioneers in the magical healing areas have recently discovered a spell that will transfigure tree limbs into fully functional bodily limbs, but at great risk. Once performed and attached, there is a large chance that the new appendage will be rejected by the body and turn back into a tree limb, and still be connected with the body. Nasty complications and infections could ensue, and in some cases the patient is even wholly turned into a tree." Dumbledore's speech left an astounded Weasley family with gaping mouths.  
  
"What is the success rate?" Charlie asked softly.  
  
"Less than fifteen percent." The headmaster replied.  
  
"Can we let George decide?" Ginny inquired in her young, small voice.  
  
"The only spell that relieves his pain also leaves the boy in no position to make rational decisions. And we have to act fast, because the longer he goes without decisive treatment the more likely the treatment will fail when we finally take a course of action. It's up to you, his family, to decide what George would do." All eyes turned automatically to Fred, who knew George like he knew himself.  
  
"I dunno. what are the other options?" requested Fred.  
  
"Two muggle prosthetic legs that we could enchant to work halfway normally, but which would make running out of the question, along with Quidditch." Dumbledore answered. Being a beater, George had to do most of the steering of his broom with his knees and legs, since he used his arms to wield the giant Bludger Bat.  
  
At the mention of ending George's quidditch career, Fred shook his head viciously. "No, George would rather die than never play quidditch again." he stated fiercely.  
  
"Well, he just might." Bill put in, staring at his brother meaningfully. This was an actual life or death decision. what George loved versus living without it.  
  
After a lot of thought, Fred finally answered. "If it were me, and it nearly is, I think I'd rather deal with the muggle pro-whatcha-call-it's than risking an eighty-five percent failure rate. It's just stupid to choose a silly game over life." But everyone knew that to the twins, Quidditch was more than a 'silly game.' Graduating this year, over the summer they had already gotten many letters from professional quidditch teams offering both of them the starting beater positions. Even the England National team invited them, and that was unheard of for players their age. This could change the whole course of George's life. Of course, they always had Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which were taking off like a rocket.  
  
"I know how hard it was for you to say that," Dumbledore remarked, giving Fred a warm look. "But that is the mature decision to make, and I'm sure George will see the truth in that. You may have just saved his life."  
  
"Or ruined it." Fred muttered, glaring meanly at the floor. Harry understood that it was a horrible position to be put in, deciding the fate of another.  
  
After their little meeting everyone traipsed to the other side of the school to visit George in the hospital wing. "Hello, I'm Courtney Crinkle- Weasley," The small blonde said quietly on the way. "I hadn't imagined meeting you all for the first time like this." Bill put his arm lovingly around her waist. They looked just as in love as they had in the photograph.  
  
Hermione looked intrigued, and muttered the last name "Crinkle." under her breath. Her face grew troubled, but she stayed silent.  
  
Madame Pomfrey looked quite put out that all these visitors were invading her hospital wing, but with Headmaster Dumbledore there she only pursed her lips and growled a little.  
  
"He looks so. unaffected. by it all." Mrs. Weasley stated, holding her little boy's hand and stroking it.  
  
"Don't worry, he'll be just fine. Remember when he was four, and he ate the Dropsy Dirt Detergent and coughed up bubbles for a week? The doctors said he'd never be able to go near dirt again without a serious allergic reaction, and the next week we brought him out of a garden gnome tunnel filthy as could be?" Charlie reminded everyone warmly, and Mr. Weasley laughed out loud.  
  
"How could I forget? We thought keeping the little tyke out of dirt would be impossible, and it was. But now he's immune to it, doesn't even get the allergic reaction anymore." Mr. Weasley said, his big booming laugh ringing out again. Harry smiled, the image of a devious four-year-old red head rolling around amongst garden gnomes and dirt clods making him smile. That was so like George.  
  
"What do you want to bet we won't be able to keep him off a broom, either. Eh?" Percy put in, with a bit of scorn mixed with amusement, and the family knew he was right. Maybe George wouldn't be able to stay on the quidditch team, but they'd have to chain him to the ground to keep him from trying to fly off of it.  
  
That night for dinner, Dumbledore let Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred off campus to eat with their family in Hogsmede. The Three Broomsticks had to join four tables together to seat all of them, but it was a slow night anyhow. The only other customer was a thin little man wrapped in an enveloping olive cloak sitting at the bar with his Ogden's Old Firewhisky, swaying slightly from his utter inebriation.  
  
"So, what'll it be?" Priscilla, one of the waitresses, asked after they'd all sat down.  
  
"Butterbeer for all!" called Mr. Weasley. There was more of a celebratory mood now that it was known that George would be fine.  
  
"Be out in a minute." Priscilla answered cheerfully, jotting something down and quickly walking through the double doors into the kitchen.  
  
"So, Courtney, we haven't really gotten a chance to talk so far." Mr. Weasley remarked to his daughter-in-law.  
  
"I know," the blonde girl replied in a high, peppy voice. "Bill and I've been so busy with moving in lately, and the wedding was so sudden -"  
  
"It certainly was." Mrs. Weasley interrupted, evidently still fuming over being excluded from her first son's wedding.  
  
"Oh mother, come on. Corky and I just aren't into big, fancy affairs." Bill said, glaring at his mother until she relented.  
  
"Of course, I know. Do tell me about your house." said Mrs. Weasley apologetically. Her son beamed at her. Corky and her mother-in-law then became engrossed in interior decorating tips and color schemes, with Hermione and Ginny cooing over the pretty arrangements.  
  
Harry could tell that Bill struck gold with Corky, in more ways than one. She was so nice to Hermione and Ginny, including them in the conversation and listening to their statements. She reminded Harry of a kindergarten teacher, which he found out later that she was, at a wizarding elementary school. And the house she described was very nice, thankfully the Weasley's didn't have to go broke paying for furniture and appliances and everything. Her family had old money, and Courtney's savings account payed for it all.  
  
"Courtney Crinkle, I'm so glad Bill and you discovered each other!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed brightly as everyone was leaving, contented and full of the warm merriment of butterbeer.  
  
Suddenly the creature at the bar lurched forward and spat out a bit of his firewhisky. "Courtney Crinkle, did you say?" he croaked, whipping around on his barstool and standing up. Promptly after bringing himself upright, he collapsed onto the floor. Struggling to get up with the heavy olive cloak on him, he threw it off in exasperation and everyone gasped.  
  
It was, in fact, not a man after all. It was Victoria Callahan.  
  
"You." Professor Callahan said, pointing her finger at Courtney, her sharp, honey-colored eyes rolling around in her head violently. "You got away."  
  
Courtney looked petrified, staring at the woman. But everyone else was nothing short of stupefied about what exactly was going on.  
  
"I - I have no idea what you're talking about." Corky squeaked, and dashed behind Bill. "Come on, this woman is drunk. We should leave before she hurts herself or others." she whispered to her husband, and he wrapped his arms around her protectively.  
  
"Let's go." Bill barked to his family, and they obeyed. The children were ushered out first, with Bill and Corky last. Just as she was about to walk out the door, Professor Callahan leapt into the air and tackled the stout blonde.  
  
"HELP ME!!" Corky screamed, grasping for Bill's hand as she fell to the floor.  
  
"It's off to Azkaban for you, missy. You can't get away this time!" cackled Professor Callahan, pinning Corky to the ground, her voice slurred with drunkenness. The attacker raised her wand high above her head menacingly, and Bill was jolted into a more severe form of action.  
  
"NOOOOO!!!" he screamed, said immediately afterward by "Expelliarmus!" Professor Callahan flew across the room and hit the four tables grouped together with a nasty crack, and slid to the floor, still twitching.  
  
"What the hell was that?" Mr. Weasley roared, stepping over to the body of Victoria Callahan and kicking her over onto her back with his foot.  
  
But nobody knew the answer.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Again I say, Poor Victoria Callahan. She's my own, personal character and I choose to do this to her?? Ahh, but there is a method to my madness, do not fret. In but a short week, you shall see. you shall see.  
  
BOO!! Hahahahahahahaaaa!  
  
All righty, your turn! Review time! It's simple, just press the little button on the bottom of the screen and PRESTO, you make my day! So, in the wise words of Clint Eastwood: "Go ahead. make my day." BY REVIEWING!!!!! (  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com 


	11. Dark Pasts, Hopeful Futures

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Eleven  
  
A/N: Thank you to all y'all that've reviewed! *muah* (kiss) *MUAH!!* (giant scary kiss that readers run from in fear)  
  
Yo quiero Harry Potter, pero no tengo Harry Potter. Estoy muy triste, y llora mucho. (I'm in Spanish 2, what can I say?) Hay un pompis muy pequena en mis pantelones. Ay Chihuahua!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Victoria Callahan lay unconscious on the floor of the Three Broomsticks, twitching a bit.  
  
"Isn't this one of your professors?" Mr. Weasley bellowed, bending over and peering into the woman's face.  
  
"Yeah Dad, she's the new Defense teacher. Professor Callahan." Ron answered, sounding distant and confused.  
  
A moment later Priscilla came rushing out of the kitchen. "What in Merlin's name just happened?" she asked, glancing down at Professor Callahan, then the tumbled over chairs and four tables, back at Professor Callahan, then at Mr. Weasley.  
  
"This woman attacked my daughter-in-law." Mr. Weasley explained.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry, please, just go on with your lovely night and I'll call the Ministry." Priscilla recommended, fearful of a lawsuit.  
  
"That won't be necessary, Priscilla," said Mr. Weasley. "I'm taking Professor Callahan up to Hogwarts along with my sons; she's a teacher there."  
  
"A teacher? At Hogwarts?" the waitress inquired, looking doubtfully down at the body on the floor. "Why, when she's been comin in here for the last couple of nights, she's babbled on about being some sort of new auror for the ministry or something."  
  
Now everyone else glared at Professor Callahan doubtfully. There was no mistaking her though; though intoxicated, her dark curly hair was a dead giveaway. Poor Corky stayed awfully silent through all of this, and Bill was stroking her back lovingly. Her white, frightened face was buried in his chest.  
  
"Mobilcorpus." Mr. Weasley said, and at once Professor Callahan's body rose and floated a few inches off the ground, her ankles slack and her feet hanging oddly. She followed the family out the door, leaving poor Priscilla behind to clean up the mess. Of course, the waitress was plenty relieved the Three Broomsticks wasn't being sued.  
  
When the group opened the large doors, they saw Headmaster Dumbledore hustling down the grand staircase towards them. "I'm so sorry, will you all please come with me to my office?" the old man asked, and it only surprised everyone a little bit that he already knew about the event.  
  
After Professor Callahan was seated, slouching awkwardly in a large recliner, Dumbledore sighed and apologized once more. "I am so sorry. Lately Victoria's been going to Hogsmede and drowning her sorrows in quite an unprofessional way. Ever since Severus got, erm. sick." Dumbledore trailed off. This was the first time Harry had ever seen the man looking unsure of himself.  
  
"But that still doesn't explain why she attacked Courtney." Mr. Weasley.  
  
"Victoria may have her reasons, but whatever they are, they're hers and I do not have the right to tell her story." Dumbledore said in the infuriating and elusive way he does. Bill sported a fiercely protective look in the direction of Professor Callahan, and it was clear that the Weasley family thought this was extremely unfair of the Headmaster. But Harry understood, it just wasn't Dumbledore's way to go around telling everything about someone when they should do it themselves.  
  
"Well, I think we're done here. Goodbye Headmaster, thank you for all your hospitality. We will see you in the morning." Mrs. Weasley spat in anger, as she was usually quite moody like that. But Dumbledore just grinned and shook everyone's hand, which took quite some time because of how many people there were, and the family went off to their guest quarters.  
  
On the way to the common room, Hermione stayed strangely quiet and thoughtful. Harry and Ron were excitedly discussing the reasons for Professor Callahan's outburst.  
  
"Do you think she was just drunk?" Harry asked.  
  
"Nah." Ron said dismissively. That explanation apparently wasn't scandalous and interesting enough. "Oh! D'you think she's in love with Bill?"  
  
"Hey, yeah, and she attacked Corky because she was in a jealous rage!" Harry added excitedly.  
  
"Bill and her are 'bout the same age too, maybe even attended Hogwarts together!" Ron answered, his voice rising.  
  
"Oh, will you two shut up?" Hermione shouted angrily. "Honestly, you two gossip more than Parvati and Lavender." At this harsh insult, Ron and Harry closed their mouths and looked at their shoes like beaten dogs.  
  
"Ron, do you know where the Crinkle family got their money?" Hermione asked a second later, the thoughtful look back in her eyes.  
  
"No, all I know is that is old. Does it really matter? It's all still money." Ron replied.  
  
"Well. if I remember correctly, I read about a lawsuit that fourteen years ago was taken to the Ministry about a family that could have had connections to You-Know-Who. An inexperienced auror had caught a man and woman, Reginald and Courtney Crinkle, whose wand's prior spells had been the Avada Kedarva curse that killed a group of aurors. The inexperienced auror was the only one not killed, and the only witness to the crime." Hermione explained. Ron and Harry were dumbfounded.  
  
"Did you say Courtney Crinkle?" Ron asked, but Hermione ignored him and continued.  
  
"So, when the case was tried, this twenty-something auror fresh from training was testifying against Reginald and Courtney, and things looked bad for the couple until their defense lawyer gave his speech.  
  
"He said that this girl was probably too frightened by her first experience in being an auror and didn't see everything right. The Crinkle's were actually victims captured by Death Eaters, and the Death Eaters killed the aurors before apparating and leaving the Crinkle's there, to be framed by the new auror."  
  
"But what about their wands? Priori Incantatem must've shown the Avada Kedarva, it'd be a dead giveaway." Harry argued. But Hermione shook her head.  
  
"No, you see after the new auror performed the Priori Incantatem, she hadn't done it right and the previous spells were erased, and then the only things the ministry came up with were summoning spells and hovering charms. nothing conspicuous. The witness's credibility was completely destroyed.  
  
"It's the only case in history involving possible Death Eaters that ended in a 'Non-Guilty' verdict. Reginald and Courtney Crinkle walked away with a huge compensation settlement from the Ministry, and that new auror was fired, but still bitterly maintained that she was right." At the end of Hermione's speech, Harry and Ron were silent, staring at her expectantly.  
  
"Don't you get it?" Hermione cried, irritated. "Reginald and Courtney Crinkle had a thirteen year old daughter at the time! Reginald and Courtney are Corky's parents! She's rich because of the settlement! And the young auror was Victoria Callahan!" As usual, Hermione was light-years ahead of Harry and Ron. But after a second of busy thought, both her friends cried out.  
  
"NO WAY!!!" Ron bellowed, his eyes round and larger than usual.  
  
"It makes no sense, that could be anyone!" Harry remarked, shaking his head.  
  
"No, it makes perfect sense. Didn't you guys see the plaque on Professor Callahan's wall, about being a certified auror of the Ministry? The date of her graduation from training was a week before the trial!"  
  
"Don't jump to conclusions, Hermoine." said Ron, but even he was beginning to come around about his sister-in-law.  
  
"And according to the picture next to the article I read, Courtney looks a lot like her mother! Being drunk and all, Professor Callahan probably got all mixed up and the rage and embarrassment of being fired and ridiculed was too much for her, and she attacked. Probably mistook Corky for her mother!" Hermione yelled.  
  
"NO WAY!!!" Ron bellowed once more, but this time because it was all finally clicking in his head.  
  
"Oh. My. Gosh." Harry remarked. Was it really possible, that Corky's parents were possible Death Eaters that got away? This certainly explained the frightened look on her face; Professor Callahan was the woman who accused her loved ones of the worst thing possible at the time, of being Voldemort's supporters.  
  
And it was no wonder the teacher was so adamant about not judging by past mistakes, she'd probably been bombarded with Howlers and flame-mail after the trial, charging 'innocent' people with something that horrible.  
  
With full heads and confused but certain faces, the three walked up to the Gryffindor dormitories and tried to find room for sleep in their raging thoughts.  
  
(^*^)  
  
The next morning dawned perfect and sunny, the picturesque Sunday quite the opposite of the Weasley family's moods. Mrs. Weasley had scrubbed down every inch of their guest quarters and refinished the chest of drawers, and was starting to wash the carpet before her husband caught her.  
  
"Dearest, I don't mean to be a bug, but I do wish you'd cease! You are not a Hogwarts house-elf, and this is not your house to clean. STOP." Mr. Weasley ordered, and his wife blushed ashamedly.  
  
"I'm sorry Arthur, but I'm so upset, and cleaning calms me, and everything is a shambles, and I can't seem to keep still!" explained Mrs. Weasley, waving her arms expressively, her voice cracking towards the end. Mr. Weasley just shook his head and smiled at her comfortingly.  
  
Everyone began their day by visiting George in the hospital wing again. Now there were two teachers hidden behind the cloth barrier; poor Professor Callahan was both knocked unconscious by the fall and practically poisoned by the alcohol content in her bloodstream.  
  
"The Ministry has already sent over a pair of enchanted prosthetic legs for George." Headmaster Dumbledore declared, walking out of the double doors with two great boxes under his arms. After much unwrapping, and everyone in the room astounded by the bubble wrap except for Dumbledore, Harry, and Hermione ("Amazing cushioning device, those muggles can certainly compensate ingeniously!" remarked by none other that Mr. Weasley), two perfectly normal looking appendages lay on the side table next to George's bed.  
  
"We clamp them on like this, see," Professor Dumbledore explained, moving the silver clasps back and forth. "And there's padding here, so George will be perfectly comfortable. Luckily, he still has some of the muscles and tendons in his knees, so magically we will make them move the appropriate parts of his calf, feet, ankles, and toes as much as we can."  
  
Then it was time for the unveiling of what was left of George's ill- fated legs. Dumbledore pulled back the sheets and there it was; half a leg, otherwise normal besides the acid green varicose vein type things snaking their way along his knees. "He'll have those scars the rest of his life. But in some cases, scars can actually come in handy." The Headmaster remarked, favoring a twinkling look towards Harry's forehead.  
  
Mr. Weasley picked up one of the prosthetic legs and placed it gingerly next to his son, who was sleeping peacefully with no inclination of what was going on, or rather, what wasn't going on, with his lower half.  
  
Carefully the man opened the clasps and slid it over George's knee, then clamped it. Besides the silver fasteners, the leg looked completely normal. Fred reached out and poked his brother's new foot, and distinctively the big toe twitched in response. Mrs. Weasley cried out with delighted astonishment, and Percy jumped into the air.  
  
"It moved!" Charlie exclaimed, pointing at the now dormant foot.  
  
"Yes. Yes it did." Dumbledore said softly, looking relieved. He sighed deeply.  
  
(^*^)  
  
At dinner that night, the Headmaster broke the news about George to the rest of the school. Of course almost everybody knew about it anyway, since forbidden gossip was far more important than schoolwork during classes.  
  
"Another curse has struck." Dumbledore declared solemnly. The hall was dead silent; you would never have been able to tell that there were adolescents in the room. "George Weasley was cursed with the Aciderrator Curse by eating a mysterious taffy that was left in his bag. Ronald Weasley, his brother, came to his rescue before the curse melted anything above his knees, thank goodness. For stopping this sinister destruction affectively and rapidly, I award one hundred points to Gryffindor House." A roar of applause erupted within the Gryffindor table that nearly, nearly, drowned out the praise from the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. Ron closed his eyes and reveled in standing out because of himself for the first time. Glancing around the room, Harry saw Hagrid dab a battered red and white polka dotted handkerchief in the corner of is eyes and then blow his nose, the sound bringing to mind that of a large goose. Harry also saw, once again, Draco Malfoy clapping compassionately for George. It was quite a conflicting sight.  
  
After the ten minute ovation, Dumbledore continued. "I ask, no, I beg, all of you not to consume ANYTHING suspicious you discover, even if it's inside your bookbag or robes. You are all too precious to me to watch another one of my students go through what Neville, Nancy, and George had to. This is the sincerest matter, please heed me on it. And now, let us not mourn, but celebrate that whatever has yet again attempted to defeat us has only made us stronger! To triumph!" The old man raised his glass, and the students did the same. After he had downed his drink, glancing down at his plate Harry noticed that it was now filled with delicious foods and delicacies, and he suddenly realized he was much hungrier than he had thought. Fred even ate a few bites of stew, his first meal ever since the night his brother was cursed.  
  
A buzzing of conversation fluttered around the table about the newly opened Beater position on the house Quidditch team. Apparently, it had gotten out about George not being able to play again.  
  
Fred, looking rather pained, made a small announcement. "Everyone who wants to be a Beater on the house team, try outs are after classes on Friday." Harry looked incredulously at Fred, and the boy nodded back at him.  
  
"Are you sure?" Harry mouthed.  
  
"We're playing Ravenclaw in a month. I know for a fact George'd kill me if we lost because we were grieving over him. The least we can do for him is kick some butt." remarked Fred, and Harry agreed. "Don't worry, he'll still be a co-captain. He's lost his ability to play, but he's still got a great mind for the game." Fred added.  
  
That week in Defense class there was a substitute teacher. "Hello, I am Matilda Snott, your replacement teacher. Please turn to page 276 and read to yourselves. I don't care what you do as long as you're silent. Go." The small witch instructed in a nasally voice, and quickly Harry and Ron obeyed. That is, in the keeping silent part. A note was being passed from Ron to Harry.  
  
Wow, Prof. Callahan's still out! Ron wrote.  
  
Can you believe Miss SNOTT?? Harry answered.  
  
It's better than Snape! Like last year, remember that? 5 rolls of parchment on werewolves. we hadn't even gotten that far yet!  
  
Harry's hand quivered over the paper, wondering what to respond. It would be so easy for the old Harry to write back something witty about 'the slimy git,' but things had changed. Once again, the Potions Master was trying to save his life.  
  
Dunno Ron, Snape's not that bad.  
  
  
  
Right, and Professor Trewlaney isn't an old bag high on incense  
  
Aw, c'mon, just because he favors Slytherin a bit doesn't make him a bad person. Somebody's got to, they're the most hated ones here just because of some stupid choices a bunch of former Slytherin's made!  
  
This statement earned a dubious glare from Ron.  
  
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?! Snape = unfair teacher = Slytherin = Malfoy = all things bad in general. What's gotten into you?  
  
Nothing. Never mind. Harry wrote back, and then opened his book and began reading the lesson on the dangers of disturbing a male grindylow during mating season.  
  
Friday soared by, even with double potions that afternoon. Again, there was a substitute, but this teacher actually monitored what the students were doing. It was quite disappointing.  
  
But it was a definite pick-me-up to think about watching people trying out for the Quidditch team later that day, silly first years thinking they had a chance, the bumbling idiots crying when they got hit with a bludger. the thought always cheered Harry up. It was amazing how far he himself had come.  
  
The list of hopefuls was actually short considering the esteem placed upon a person who played on a house team. There were some rumors floating around that the position was cursed by George himself (though the fact that he was in a coma might make casting a spell a little hard), and anyone who took the Beater's place would crash on the first game day. Needless to say, this discouraged many first-years from trying.  
  
When Harry saw Ron there, he assumed it was because he was George's brother. It would be of his interest to see who the Beater's replacement would be. So you couldn't blame Harry for yelling aloud and falling out of his seat when he saw the name "Ronald Weasley" on the roster.  
  
"RON!?" Harry shouted, calling the tall boy's attention over to him. However, when Ron figured out what the shout had been concerning, he turned back around again, face burning.  
  
Only a few of the auditions turned out to be comical, and the bludgers really enjoyed their workout. Three hours it took, to sift through the riff-raff, before the decisions became tough. Ron actually managed to scrape into the top five, though Harry had a sneaking suspicion that this was because Fred had a say in the judging.  
  
Though Ron wasn't half bad, once you got him with the rest of the team. He couldn't really slam the bat as confidently or hard as his brothers could, but he had accuracy and speed, which made up for it. And also, the red-haired boy possessed some sort of clairvoyance as to where the best place to whack the bludger would be, or which fellow teammate he needed to protect from one. Harry actually felt dwarfed by Ron for once, and not the other way around.  
  
"Nice flying up there, kid." Angelina commented, as Ron hopped off his old Shooting Star after the two-minute trial run. There were twenty targets, and you had two minutes to hit as many as you could. Ron had got seventeen, which was a good four above the leader, seventh-year Yolanda Bateman.  
  
"D'you think I stand a chance, Harry?" Ron asked, wide-eyed and doubtful. Harry didn't want to get his hopes up, and yet his gut was telling him that Ron did.  
  
"Can't say," Harry answered with a twinkle, avoiding the question. But Ron didn't press it. "And since when have you been a beater?"  
  
"Since my brother was cursed and I've felt quite wrathful. Dunno, the thought never occurred to me before to be one. It's like, that was Fred and George's thing. Bill was a keeper, Charlie a seeker, it was only natural for me to be the chaser. Dad jokes that we could start a national Weasley team, we've got enough players anyway." Ron answered, exceptionally straightforward for him. He usually didn't display his feelings so outwardly.  
  
"Well, good for you, Ron. And good luck." Harry responded.  
  
"Thanks, Harry. I have a feeling I'll need it."  
  
Though Harry had a feeling he wouldn't.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: *sweating like a marathon had just been run* DONE!! *wipes brow* Fini. Accomplished. Not having to type anymore! Yay! So. will Ron get the position of beater, as his brother's replacement? Are y'all pulling for him? Are ya, are ya??  
  
Well, that's bloody well and good for RON, with a fictional plight (though very important), but I'm the one with a story to be reviewed!! SO DO IT!! Please! See, I'm polite, that's gotta be worth a pat on the back!  
  
Quick poll here, who would be the BEST couple in the whole Harry Potter regime? I'd like to see everyone's separate views, and also to peg who exactly my slash lovers are here. If you would like to know, I'm not a fan of slash. AT ALL. It's sorta blasphemous to JK's work, but whatever melts your margarine I guess. as long as you don't try to melt mine.  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com 


	12. The New George Weasley

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Twelve  
  
A/N: Wheee, twelve, twelve, bo-belve, banana-fana-fo-felve, mi-my-mo melve. TWELVE!! Now. Chuck! Chuck, Chuck, bo buck, banana-fana-fo WHOA!! Hehe, lol.  
  
I don't own Harry Potter. My, that is getting redundant, isn't it? But I hope to God my story isn't!  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was Saturday evening before the Gryffindor quidditch team had come to a decision about their new beater.  
  
"Yolanda's got an amazing arm." Alicia pointed out, pulling for her friend.  
  
"Yeah, but she's slow, and has no sense of placement. No, we need somebody with accuracy. someone like Ron." Angelina recommended.  
  
"Ron?! MY Ron? The little brother?" Fred asked, astounded.  
  
"No, the house elf that's living under my bunk." the team captain replied sarcastically. "Of course your brother! He's really good Fred, admit it. The Wonderful Weasley Twins aren't the only family talents at beating a bludger." But Fred didn't admit it, he just glared at his hands and thought. Angelina didn't push the tender subject, though.  
  
"What about Lars Kazinski?" Harry put in. "He's pretty fast, he's pretty accurate, not gonna knock anyone's socks off but at least the kid's well rounded."  
  
"NO!!" Katie shouted suddenly, cutting off the last syllable of Harry's recommendation.  
  
"Why? Give me one good reason." Harry demanded, shooting the girl an annoyed look. Angelina, Alicia, and her all began to giggle in an unnerving way.  
  
"Katie's got a crush." Alicia sang, before being smothered by the humiliated girl.  
  
"Okay, c'mon people, put all personal feelings aside and tell me, who will do the best for the team?" Harry instructed, and things got pretty silent.  
  
"Ron." Lewis Mabblehauser mumbled in his shy quietness.  
  
"Yeah, Ron. He knows the team strategies well." Katie remarked, raising her head up to look at Lewis.  
  
"And he can fly, really, really well." Alicia added.  
  
"So?" Angelina prompted, nudging their sole Beater. "How do you think George would feel about his little brother filling his place on the team?"  
  
After a deep sigh and some deep thought, Fred finally conceded. "As long as he can get the job done. he's all right. The kid is good. It runs in the family, what can I say?"  
  
Harry's heart was soaring. "Yeesssssss!" he shouted, throwing his fist into the air.  
  
"Whatever happened to 'no personal feelings?'" Katie reprimanded. Harry sat down again and slouched over, still celebrating for his friend.  
  
(^*^)  
  
There was a sign posted in the Common Room announcing Ron's election to the team. People were crowded all around it, and when Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked in after dinner they couldn't manage to get through. Even though Harry absolutely had to spill the good news to Hermione, they had both decided it would be best for Ron to find out on his own.  
  
"Hey, the list is up. You wanna go check it out?" Harry commented casually.  
  
"Nah, I'm whipped. I think I'll just head on up to the dorm and go over the Transfiguration notes before hitting the sack. we've got a test tomorrow, you know." Ron replied.  
  
"Ronald Francis Weasley, would you please just get some self-esteem and go look at the ruddy list!" Hermione commanded, and the common room went silent. Harry knew the penalty she was going to suffer for using the 'F' word, Ron's taboo middle name. But at least this got the poor guy to walk, rather hunched over and sulkily, over to the posting.  
  
After staring at the paper for a second, he finally spoke. Though it was not what anyone expected. "Oh. Hey look, I made it." he stated off- handedly, like it was a simple comment on the weather.  
  
"Uh-huh. isn't that great, Ron? Aren't you happy? Shouldn't you jump into the air and scream 'whoop-de-dee' or something? Not even one tiny 'whoop' out of you, and you've beat out thirty others for a position on the House Quidditch Team?" Hermione exploded, and Ron smiled at her.  
  
"Whoop. De. Dee. Now can I go study for Transfiguration? Unless Professor McGonagall is going to take celebration as a reasonable excuse for failing her test." Ron replied, and with that he whipped around and bounded up the stairs, though Harry noticed with a bit springier step and a withheld grin.  
  
Hermione was fuming; Harry actually thought he could see the billows of smoke coming out of her ears. "Aw, relax, Hermione. He's had it rough, give the guy a break." Harry cooed, watching some of the crimson drain out of her face.  
  
"You go handle it." she muttered through clenched teeth, before stomping off to the hidden snacks cupboard to have a stress-relieving chocolate.  
  
At the top of the stairs, Harry paused for a moment and knocked. "Ron?" Harry called, poking his head into the dormitory.  
  
"AAAAARGH!!!!! I DID IT! HARRY, I DID IT!" Ron bellowed, and Harry noticed that his friend was standing on top of his bed, which looked suspiciously like it had been jumped on.  
  
"Yeah, you kinda did." Harry answered him.  
  
"I'm on the team! I'm on the team, for once it's me! MEEEEE!!"  
  
"What just happened out there? You looked like you could care less, and now you're. erm, not."  
  
"You think I was going to jump for joy in front of everyone, and humiliate the other people who tried out? Besides, I don't think I could quite do this out there." Ron answered, taking a few more hops on the bed.  
  
Harry smiled. "Well, congratulations Ron. You deserved it."  
  
"You have my word, I promise not to let you guys down," Ron said earnestly, climbing down from his bed and staring at Harry wide-eyed and meaningfully. "I'll do the best I can to totally annihilate the opposing team, Harry, I swear it. This means so much."  
  
"Good. It better!" Harry replied, and joined his friend in a few more rounds of ecstatic jumping.  
  
(^*^)  
  
That Sunday morning, Madame Pomfrey predicted that George was well enough to come out of the potion-induced slumber he'd been under for so long. However, Ron looked slightly afraid of visiting his brother. "D'you think he'll be disappointed, Harry? Will he resent me or something?" Ron whispered fearfully to his friend on their way over to the hospital wing.  
  
"Of course not." Harry answered, though a shadowy doubt hovered in the back of his mind.  
  
Upon walking into the lemon-scented, white-walled, sunlit room, the family immediately saw that George was sitting up in bed. "Oh, my little boy!" Mrs. Weasley squealed, and rushed over to her son, smothering him with kisses.  
  
"Geroff, Ma." he mumbled weakly, more to save face than really get her to go away. Harry saw George nuzzle into her large bosom with a faint smile.  
  
"How are you feeling?" asked Mr. Weasly, stepping forward and squeezing the redhead's shoulder.  
  
"Okay. Madame Pomfrey told me about my legs, that they were taken by the curse." he whispered softly, his gaze falling on his hands.  
  
"I'm so sorry, George." Ron spoke up, taking a step forward.  
  
"You," the patient said. "I - I don't remember much of that night, but. Ron, you saved me, didn't you? You stopped it, countered it."  
  
Ron didn't respond, just gulped loudly. Harry noticed his eyes glistening a bit. "That's our Ronald." Charlie put in, grinning supportively at his brother.  
  
"Thank you. So much Ron, you have no idea." George stammered, holding out his hand. They shook on it, and Harry knew that the forbidden 'love' word was on their lips. But it didn't need to be said, just understood. And it was, beyond what any word could express.  
  
Then Fred sighed loudly, and the group knew the news about Quidditch was coming. Visibly, the whole room braced itself for what was to come. "George, um. you know the damage that was done was horrible. And since your legs. erm. they can't be replaced perfectly, George." explained Fred hurriedly. The boy's face fell.  
  
"I figured as much." he said, his voice barely detectable. But then his head whipped up again. "What else?" he asked like a brave little soldier.  
  
"Quidditch." his twin stated simply. The remaining color drained from George's face as he understood.  
  
"No. I ca - oh God, no." the redhead breathed, balling his hands into furious fists.  
  
"I'm so sorry, buddy, but at least you're alive. You've at least got that!" Percy chastised. This was clearly not the thing George needed to hear just then.  
  
"That was my future, Perce. My life." said George, glaring at his brother. Percy was about to argue back, but Bill grabbed his arm in restraint.  
  
"There was a spell -" Charlie sputtered.  
  
"What?" George inquired, turning his gaze from Percy to Charlie. "A spell, could it have allowed me to play?"  
  
Mr. Weasley nodded solemnly. "Well, yes, but -"  
  
"THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU DO THAT?" he roared.  
  
"Because you might have died! Death, George!" squeaked Ginny forcefully, and this was her equivalent of a slap in the face. Usually she was so meek, just quiet and observant. George stared at her for a long time, her nose bright red from crying, her tear-streaked face.  
  
"That remedy was only successful fifteen percent of the time. Otherwise awful things could happen, infections, still more amputation. death." Mr. Weasley explained.  
  
George thought about it for a long time, the family standing around him expectantly. At last, his eyes came back into focus and he looked at each of them in turn. "Well, thank you then." he said, acceptance and apology mingling together. "I guess you better start searching for a replacement beater, then." he declared lightly.  
  
"We already have." Harry said.  
  
George looked a little put off, but even more intrigued. "Oh really, who?"  
  
Harry glanced back at Ron, who seemed to have shrunk considerably since the beginning of the conversation. "George, promise you wont be mad." Ron pleaded.  
  
"What, who could it be? Don't tell me it's Neville!" George said with a laugh. This got a smile out of everybody.  
  
Tentatively, Ron raised his hand in the air. Still, the former player didn't get it. "Me." Ron mumbled.  
  
George just cocked his head to the side and cupped his hands to his ear. "Come again?"  
  
"ME!!" Ron shouted, and George began to grin.  
  
"No kidding?" he asked, looking at Fred and Harry.  
  
"Yeah, he's really good." replied Harry.  
  
"Must run in the family." Fred answered with a smile.  
  
"Wow," commented George, looking at Ron. "Always knew you had it in you, bro. Congratulations."  
  
And that was the end of it. No jealousy, no obscene phrases. Ron looked incredibly relieved.  
  
"So I guess that's what these thingies are for, huh?" George asked after a short moment of silence, poking his legs lying on the nightstand.  
  
"Yeah, but it's better than you think. See, when you get them clamped on like this," Bill said, leaving his post at Corky's side and approaching his brother. He pulled back the covers and fastened the metal clasps onto George's stump of a knee. "See, you've got movement! Limited movement, mind you, but a great improvement."  
  
George performed a few test wiggles of his big toe, a small, fraction of a twitch, but he looked amazed. "This is too weird. I'm making it move, but it's not. me. Jeez."  
  
"Madame Pomfrey's signed you up for some physical therapy, so you can learn how to operate those. She said you can't run, but walking to and from classes should be no problem." Percy instructed, and Harry saw a devilish grin spread across George's face as if to say, 'Just watch me.'  
  
The boy glanced around again, this time more cheerily, when suddenly he spotted Corky. "Oh, I'm sorry, you must be Bill's wife!" George exclaimed, recognizing her face from the picture.  
  
"Yes, nice to meet you George, I'm Corky Crinkle-Weasley, your sister- in-law I assume." she introduced herself, shaking her new brother-in-law's hand.  
  
And so there they were once again, a complete family. A bit of a peculiar family, but if the Weasley's were normal, things wouldn't be nearly as interesting. Or loving.  
  
(^*^)  
  
George went back to school that Monday, an immediate celebrity. He was very meek about it at first, the sympathetic remarks clearly dredging up unpleasant memories and thoughts. But by the end of the week, he explained every bit excitedly, even showing off his prosthetic legs.  
  
Harry noticed that George was coping very well with the whole Quidditch thing. George still attended practices as a coach though, as Fred had promised, and spent two extra hours after each training session to teach Ron some special beating moves. With the match versus Ravenclaw fast approaching, practices were upped an extra hour to break in their new teammate.  
  
Evidently Percy's remark about at least being alive held out in George's mind. Everyone knew that something seriously evil was going on, even though the truth about Voldemort's return hadn't gotten out yet. George felt that he was incredibly lucky to have his health and half his legs, and realized that there were more important things to worry about, like being there for his family. and the rapid fanatic success of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  
  
He even got a hero's welcome in the Great Hall for dinner that night. Yet again, Draco Malfoy was among the standing applauders. Things were seriously beginning to creep Harry out, what with the secret past of Corky Crinkle and Victoria Callahan, Snape's hopeful recovery before Harry was killed by a risen Dark Lord, the targeting of random Gryffindor students; this sudden change of heart by Draco only added to Harry's cluttered thoughts.  
  
"Welcome back, George." greeted Nancy, roughly grabbing her friend around the neck and pulling him into a hug. George squeezed her arm comfortingly.  
  
Harry, who was sitting next to the two of them, was the only one close enough to hear the conversation that followed.  
  
"I was so scared I was going to lose you." Nancy whispered. Harry blushed and stared fixatedly on his beans, he didn't think anyone was supposed to be overhearing this. But of course, he wasn't going to stop eavesdropping.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere, Nan. I'm right here, with you. Forever, if I can help it." George answered, stroking her hair affectionately.  
  
WHAT?! The thought dashed through Harry's mind, and his eyes bulged out of his head. Were George and Nancy in. love?  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Wow, I'm just full of lovey-dovey cliffhangers, aren't I? WELL THAT'S JUST BECAUSE I'VE GOT NONE MYSELF!!!!!!! *takes breath and counts to ten* Okay, better now.  
  
it' gonna take me awhile to update again, I'm getting bogged down with end of quarter satanic essays and cell molecule diagrams and prose and duet memorization. ugh, my life hates me!!! (But I like it, myself. wait, does that even make sense?!)  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com 


	13. Out of the Closet and into the Fire

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Thirteen  
  
A/N: Three cheers for people who review!! HIP HIP. HORRAY! HIP HIP. HORRAY!! HIP HIP. HORRAY!!! Thanx so much guys. They like me *tear* they really like me!  
  
Oh yes, I do own Harry Potter! I'm positively rolling in dough and have created one of the most well-written and imaginative works this century! Yes, indeed. oh wait, that was a dream.  
  
Nevermind.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Over the course of that week, Harry picked up many tidbits of George Weasley and Nancy Freeston's hidden relationship that had been eluding him ever since she had joined the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  
  
For starters, the two were very touchy-feely with each other, holding hands, arms around shoulders, playing with hair, etc. And the nicknames "Georgie-poo" and "Nannie-Fannie" weren't exactly platonic either. But the biggest tip-off was when Harry walked in on them making out.  
  
That was just plain scarring.  
  
It was in the Gryffindor common room, of all places, around a corner and inside a closet. Harry was innocently looking for some spare parchment when he stumbled upon the two, and gasped audibly.  
  
The poor couple was just as startled as Harry was, and quickly pulled the boy into the closet with them. "Shhh, oh please oh please oh please, don't tell anyone!" was the first thing out of Nancy's mouth. Besides George's tongue.  
  
"OH MY GOSH!!" Harry scream-whispered in shock, as he brought his wand out and Lumos-ed it.  
  
"I know it looks really bad right now," George began, his face slightly greenish, whether by the light cast by Harry's wand or the uncomfortable situation.  
  
"Psh, yah." emphasized Harry.  
  
"But it's not what it seems, I swear!" the red-head finished.  
  
"So what, you were copying the homework from your mouth into hers?!" Harry asked rhetorically. This was mind boggling, little Nancy was six years his junior!  
  
"Well, yes, this is what it looks like, but our relationship isn't." George argued.  
  
"I'm in love with him, it's not just kissing in closets!" added Nancy.  
  
George nodded emphatically then his eyebrows scrunched together and his mouth dropped open. "Y-you're in love? With me?"  
  
Nancy looked sheepish and smiled broadly. "Well. yeah, I am. I love you, George Weasley."  
  
Harry felt he was going to be sick.  
  
"I love you too, Nancy Freeston." George replied in a choked voice. Then they embraced, and Harry's condition skyrocketed from slight nausea to a full-blown flu migraine. He had no idea virus's stemmed from irritating scenarios.  
  
"Aw, c'mon, I don't want to see that." Harry protested, turning around to face the door. It wasn't that he wasn't excited for his friends, it was that he wanted to know why everyone else seemed to be falling in love, and Harry was left the untouchable Boy-Who-Lived. He'd trade some lousy scar for a girlfriend any day.  
  
"Sorry." Nancy mumbled, pulling away from her 'lover.'  
  
"It's just. well, Nan and I know what people'll think." George explained.  
  
"They'll react pretty much the way you did." said Nancy.  
  
"And we don't want something like this to be trashed by everyone else. They wouldn't understand." George finished.  
  
Ugh, they were even completing each other's sentences. "You're secret's safe with me, just remember, you can't keep this in the closet for too long, if you know what I mean." Harry recommended.  
  
"I know, I know, I think Fred suspects something, but I can't bring myself to spill it," was George's excuse. "I just know he'd tear us to pieces, making fun of Nancy and I. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would never recover. Hell, I don't even think I'd ever recover."  
  
"It's not that we're ashamed or anything, but. well, it's complicated. George is eighteen in a couple of months, and I'm barely twelve. My parent's'd flip." Nancy explained, and Harry had to agree.  
  
"You're so much more mature than twelve, though." complimented George.  
  
"And you're so much more immature than eighteen!" Nancy exclaimed teasingly.  
  
"See? A perfect match, we're meant to be." said George, wrapping his arms once more around his 'girlfriend.'  
  
Harry stifled a gag and shook his head. "Alright, alright. It's up to you two, just remember that they're gonna find out sooner or later."  
  
"I'd much rather it be later, myself." Nancy commented, and George agreed.  
  
Harry heaved a sigh. "Okay, I'll walk out first with Nancy, then you can come out in a few minutes, George. Make sure nobody'll suspect anything."  
  
"Ooh, smart move Harry. Seems like you've done this before." surmised George as Harry opened the door tentatively.  
  
I wish, Harry thought, before sticking his wand back into his robes and striking out into the bright common room with Nancy. He had forgotten all about the needed parchment.  
  
"What happened to you, Harry, you get lost or something?" Hermione asked jokingly.  
  
"I'm fine." Harry breathed, swallowing the lump in his throat. He was never any good at lying. Nancy patted him on the back supportively and sauntered back over to her group of first-year friends.  
  
"Looks more like the parchment roughed you up a bit." Ron remarked skeptically, taking in Harry's flushed face, rumpled hair, and wrinkled robes. Ron and Hermione traded glances, but nothing was said with their friend present.  
  
(^*^)  
  
George and Nancy's secret love reached an all time shameless low the following breakfast. Apparently elated about avoiding discovery, they began flirting fearlessly, sitting next to each other and giggling and displaying other repulsive affections.  
  
Harry was forced to get up from his seat at the end of the table and march towards them, planting himself between the two young lovers. Nancy didn't give up that easily though, and Harry had to resort to physical force to keep her hands to herself, pinning them to her sides in an awkward hug- thing.  
  
Hermione and Ron almost combusted from confusion, but Harry, keeping his promise like a good lil boy, clamped his mouth shut tight. Not one Gryffindor was any the wiser about George and Nancy's taboo relationship.  
  
The match against Ravenclaw was scheduled for that weekend, the first of December, and Ron's beater training was coming along very well. He was almost exactly like his brother now, George had taught him well.  
  
"You ready?" Harry asked his friend that Friday night before bed.  
  
"As ready as I'll ever be. I sure am terrified, Harry." Ron replied.  
  
"You'll be fine, stop worrying. Everyone thinks you're great, talented, you fly well, and Ravenclaw's a pushover." Though that last bit Harry wasn't quite sure of. Cho Chang, whom Harry still felt a pang of lust over, was a seeker on the team, and their chasers were very fast and slippery. Gryffindor needed any advantage they could get, and so far all they had was Lewis Mabblehauser, who actually turned out to be quite a good keeper.  
  
"I hope I don't choke." Ron wondered aloud, and Harry threw a slipper at him.  
  
"Shut up Ron!! I'm beginning to think you're just fishing for compliments." Harry teased. Even though it wasn't true, it got the redhead to settle down enough to fall into a nervous sleep.  
  
(^*^)  
  
The next morning, Harry awoke at quarter to six to find Ron shaking him. "Whaddyawant?" Harry mumbled.  
  
"I need your help Harry, come with me downstairs." Ron pleaded.  
  
The note of urgency jolted Harry awake, and he sat up, put on some warmer robes, and followed his friend down into the common room.  
  
"I couldn't sleep, and then when I finally did, I had nightmares about falling off of my broom, or getting mangled by a bludger. I've been awake since three." explained Ron.  
  
"What are you so freaking scared of? Ron, look at me. You'll. Do. Fine. I wouldn't lie to you, and you wouldn't be on the team if there was the slightest clue you'd screw it up for us. And the team won't blame you even if you do." Harry comforted, a bit sharper than was needed.  
  
"Dunno Harry, I can't help but thinking that. well, that I got the position just because they pitied me. Being the younger brother and all."  
  
"Of course not! You're a great beater, nobody else could've done it better."  
  
"Ya sure?"  
  
"We were tempted to not put you on the team for that reason, but your obvious natural skills convinced us. It even got Fred to admit it. C'mon, stop being a prat."  
  
"Okay, okay. I guess there's no chance in us getting to sleep now, huh?"  
  
"Nope," Harry said, stifling a huge yawn. "You wanna see what the house elves got fixed up so far?"  
  
"Why not." Ron agreed, and together the two friends went downstairs to the Great Hall for breakfast. When they entered, the only people present were Draco Malfoy and Cho Chang.  
  
Cho was startling enough for poor Harry, but the sight of Draco made him gasp. The blonde boy had a giant purple black eye, with mustard yellow outlinings, and a nasty gash across his cheek below it. His whole face was swollen up so bad, he was sipping chicken broth through a straw.  
  
"What happened to you?" Harry asked in spite of himself.  
  
"Snuve it, Putter." spat Malfoy as best he could. Harry just smiled and grabbed a large hunk of raisin bread from the tray and opened his mouth wide, chewing openly. The Slytherin, clearly insulted sufficiently, turned around back to his broth.  
  
"Whatever happened, I hope it hurts him. Bad." Ron commented, sitting beside Harry.  
  
"Nervous, boys?" a small voice said from behind them. Harry and Ron whipped around and turned equally red when they realized that it was Cho.  
  
"I only get nervous when I'm threatened." replied Ron, smiling. Harry only wished he could say something witty, but was tongue tied.  
  
Cho laughed, a light, feathery sound, and smiled. "Congratulations on snagging the spot, Ron. So you're the new beater." Harry turned emerald with envy at those cherry lips uttering his FRIENDS name, but shook it off, reminding himself that Ron was indeed his friend.  
  
"Yup. And you'd better watch out, too." Ron answered, a twinkling, flirtatious threat. Since when was Ron such a ladies man?  
  
"Good luck today, you two." wished Cho.  
  
"Thanks." Harry finally managed to get out.  
  
"Yeah, right back at you Cho." said Ron, then turned around casually and began devouring sausage after sausage.  
  
Harry was nice and enraged for the game that day. How dare Ron steal his girl! Okay, so he didn't really steal her. and he didn't exactly know that Harry liked her. and Cho didn't exactly know that Harry liked her either. but still, it was the principle of the thing.  
  
But, deep down, Harry knew he was mad just because he wished he could be that smooth with the ladies. He'd never had any sort of female attention paid to him, ever, in his life. gosh, even DUDLEY had a girlfriend! Granted, she was an ugly brute resembling Goyle, but that was a match made in heaven. And he'd take a Goyle-look-alike any day over lonesomeness. Well, maybe. He didn't know if he was that desperate yet.  
  
"Whew, I saved you there, buddy." Ron muttered between bites, bringing Harry back from la-la land.  
  
"What? Saved me?" Harry asked, not understanding.  
  
"I saw the look on your face when Cho started flirting with you. Dread, you didn't want to be caught. Well don't worry, your secret's safe with me, the little woman will never find out."  
  
Now Harry was downright freaked out. Had the pressure from the Ravenclaw game finally cracked Ron? "What on God's green earth are you talking about? The little woman?!"  
  
"I know, Harry. I KNOW." Ron whispered meaningfully.  
  
"Bonnie for you then, but I don't." Harry replied.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and slammed his fork on the table. "Stop playing dumb, I found out about you and Nancy!"  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open, and his fork clattered down onto the white tablecloth also. "Wha - nghhh, excuse me?" This could be bad.  
  
"You and that blonde first year, Nancy Freeston! I mean, last night it was kind of weird that you and her came out of the same closet looking fussed up and breathing heavily. You never did get that so-called 'parchment,'" Ron said. Oh crap, this was really bad. "But this morning, when Nancy was sitting next to George and giggling with him, you got so mad you actually separated them, hugging her and everything! You're not exactly an expert at hiding you two's obvious relationship, Harry."  
  
Harry just let his mouth hang open, while Ron drawled on. "I know why you're embarrassed about it, she's just a first year. But Rita Skeeter's in Bulgaria somewhere, you're safe from Witch Weekly for a while at least."  
  
"That's not true, you've got it all wrong." Harry stuttered.  
  
Just then, with impeccable timing, in walked George and Fred. Ron continued, though, obviously oblivious. "You and Nancy actually make a cute couple, Harry, don't worry about it. It's not like you're that much older than she is."  
  
Oh, it's SO bad. Harry thought. His life was over. George's eyes bugged out, and Harry shook his head viciously to imply that he didn't tell him. "What's going on, Ron?" George asked nonchalantly.  
  
"Nothing, just Harry's denying his love-affair with your Wizard Wheezes partner, Nancy Freeston. Can you believe it?" Ron said.  
  
Harry and George exchanged pleading looks, before the twin sealed poor Harry's fate. "Oh really, yeah, I'd heard something about that. Way to go, Har."  
  
It was so bad.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Oh poor Harry! He's being framed I tell you, FRAMED!! I know, I know, it's sorta like what happened on the TV show Friends between Monica, Chandler, and Joey, but it's so fun, isn't it? Did I make you laugh? C'mon, I hope I at least inspired a giggle! Review me, purty please, it'll be fun!  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com 


	14. Battles of All Kinds

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Fourteen  
  
A/N: Wow, that last chapter sure startled a fun reaction out of you readers. I get my kicks from y'all. And route 66, but that's not the point. Thanks to:  
  
Emma Malfoy: Here's your quidditch scene, babe!  
  
Bookworm2000: Hey, what the heck is a snicket book? I wanna know!  
  
Who doesn't own Harry Potter? KEL doesn't own Harry Potter!! He don't, he don't, he do-on't (neither does anyone else but J.K. Rowling, for that matter. And that includes me!)  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was so bad. Harry couldn't believe it. Ron thought him and Nancy Freeston were dating. His main squeeze. They were an item. A couple. Oh, how bad indeed.  
  
Harry was too stunned to eat. Heck, he was almost too stunned to breathe! How was he going to get out of this mess?  
  
The whole quidditch team was informed by the end of breakfast. "Why you little son of a gun!" Angelina roared, nudging a bug-eyed Harry in the ribs. "Cradle robber, you."  
  
"Aw, don't tease him Angie! I think it's sweet, Harry, so don't worry about it. If you really like Nancy, you'll respect her enough to face your friends." Alicia piped in, who had learned the news a few moments before.  
  
"You hear that?" Harry said sharply, kicking George under the table. "If I really LIKE her, I'll RESPECT her enough to face my FRIENDS." The real culprit of robbing the cradle just turned red and ate his eggs.  
  
Harry didn't have time to wallow in self-pity for long though. The match against Ravenclaw began in less than an hour, and he needed to get psyched up for the game. Once in the locker room, he only said one thing to George for setting him up.  
  
"Fine mess you've gotten me into." Harry spat, glaring at the twin.  
  
"What else could I have done, admitted to it?" George defended.  
  
"YEAH!" roared Harry.  
  
"Okay, I know it was a rotten thing to do, but Fred and Ron were right there, looking at me, waiting for me to answer. And it's such a good cover up, c'mon." said George.  
  
"Yeah, it's greeeeaaaat. BESIDES THE FACT THAT YOU'RE THE ONE DATING HER!"  
  
"Shhhh." George coaxed, glancing around to make sure no one was alerted. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry, there. Just shine it on for a few more days, then I'll tell the truth. Let me get my bearings, Harry, it's the least you could do. Everyone's just now getting over the curse, I don't wanna kill my Mum."  
  
Harry thought it was cheap of George to con him into it using his newly acquired disability, but it suckered him into it. "You owe me big, Weasley." he agreed finally.  
  
The look on George's freckled face was of pure elated relief. "Thank you so much, you won't regret it, I swear!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah." remarked Harry, shaking his head. It wouldn't be so bad, really, 'dating' Nancy. It could be worse, like Lavender or Parvati. And, in the back of his mind, Harry thought that it might change his status a bit. No girl had ever attempted to like him, besides Ginny who didn't count, and now he had a girlfriend.  
  
Well, not really, but nobody had to know that part.  
  
Sooner than Harry would've liked, he heard Lee's booming voice declaring the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Houses was commencing. Trembling with anticipation, Harry lined up with his teammates. He noticed that poor Ron was convulsing, he was so nervous. Though he resented his friend at the moment for bringing to light the whole Nancy thing, Harry pitied him and patted him on the back supportively.  
  
"You'll do fine, I know it. You're great." Harry comforted.  
  
Ron smiled, a weak, sickly smile. "I'm great." he stated, and began chanting it therapeutically. "I'm great, I'm great, I'm gr-grea-mph." Ron trailed off into gibberish when he saw the stands of students spread out before him when the doors opened and they all stepped out into the sunlight. What was left of the color in his face drained away, and for a second it looked as if he might faint.  
  
Madame Hooch was standing in the center of the field, waiting for the blue and crimson teams to join her. "I want a good, clean match. Let's get it on!" she exclaimed.  
  
(A/N: I borrowed that from Celebrity Death Match and Judge Jo Nelson, or one of those TV judges. Can't you just see her saying that?? Har, har. the author's gotta have her fun!)  
  
After a sharp blow of her whistle, a collective whooshing sounded as the teams rose into the air. Now that they were flying, Ron seemed to relax a bit and raced after a passing bludger chasing after chasers at a breakneck speed.  
  
"There they go!" boomed Lee Jordan's commentation. "Ravenclaw chaser Kelley Bishop is off with the quaffle, neat drop pass to her brother Mick Guinness Bishop, the team's signature move. Mick is dodging two bludgers, two Weasley's, not twins this time but still red-haired, and - OH knocked in the knee with a bludger! Fantastic shot by Ron Weasley, new addition to the Gryffindor team, had to've thrown something out twisting that way to bat the bludger at Mick, but he looks okay enough. Angelina fights the quaffle away and heads towards Ravenclaw's goal, flanked by the Weasley's. They're guarding her, looks like nothing can get her now, c'mon.. AMAZING! Angelina passes the quaffle to Fred and he scores! Ravenclaw keeper Carl Albert didn't even see him! Ingenious play, nothing in the rulebook's against a beater carrying the quaffle, it's just not done a lot. nice play by Gryffindor, leading ten oh."  
  
Harry smiled, that was one of the clever plays designed by Angelina learned this year. She wasn't so bad as a coach. granted, a bit fanatical, but that was just what the team needed.  
  
Cho Chang was circling the other end of the field, searching for any sign of the snitch. It comforted Harry that this time he spied fleeting glints of the golden snitch. Nothing he could go after, but reassurances that a repeat offense from the game versus Hufflepuff wasn't going to happen.  
  
Harry totally gave up searching for the snitch and just watched Cho fly. She was even graceful from one hundred yards away - her dark hair flowing out behind her, sapphire robes giving her an almost celestial look. She was so beautiful it hurt.  
  
Suddenly Harry saw her jerk forwards and press her broom to go as fast as it could. She had obviously seen the snitch. Searching the grass below her, Harry saw to his dismay that it was true; a golden glitter was skimming its way casually across the lawn, in no apparent hurry. Cho was going to get it. Gryffindor was going to lose, and it was all Harry's fault!  
  
In anger Harry kicked his Firebolt into action and tried to beat her to the spot, though he could tell she had too much of a head start. It was no more than ten yards away. five yards. two. one. Harry's self-hatred began growing and boiling inside him. How could he have done this?  
  
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bludger came soaring towards Cho, hell-bent on hitting her. And it did. Square in the back, she was sent spinning end over end away from the snitch. Sensing danger, the little flying walnut sped away. It was safe now.  
  
"C'mon, Harry, pick it up. We can't lose this game!" Ron yelled, chasing after the bludger. It was he who had sent it towards Cho, it was he that had saved both the Gryffindor team and Harry's reputation.  
  
Lee was ecstatic. "AND RON SAVES THE DAY!!! Chang was diving after the snitch, but he bats her away from it, nice beating by Little Weasley! Wonder how Harry didn't get a jump on that bugger sooner. but all's well now that Little Weasley is here!" The Gryffindor crowd began chanting "Little Weasley, Little Weasley" over and over again, drowning out the Ravenclaw's booing.  
  
Harry grunted with relief and more self-hatred, soaring up above the game to look for the snitch again. He couldn't believe he'd let that happen, Gryffindor almost lost all because of his stupid crush on Cho.  
  
"Norman North of Ravenclaw off with the quaffle now, pass to fellow chaser Edmond Memorial, but Gryffindor's all over him! Edmond's trying to pass it to anyone, but his teammates can't get through to him. Jenks is fighting with Katie for the quaffle, he looks like he'll get away with it - no, a well placed bludger by Little Weasley shakes him off and Angelina's away."  
  
Though things were okay now, Harry's confidence was shaken. Repeatedly, Cho dove down into a steep dive and Harry would follow her, and they'd be neck and neck until he'd spot the smile on her face and realize he'd been faked out. She had him in the palm of her hands and she knew it.  
  
It was the sixth time she did it that Harry followed along only as a precaution; he really didn't believe her this time. Then he spotted the flying golden orb darting mere centimeters from her fingertips. Once again, the poor guy kicked himself, and darted down after her.  
  
His Firebolt was faster than Cho's Nimbus Two-Thousand, but she had the advantage of faith in herself, and Harry was too frantic and jittery. His turns were too sharp, hers liquid; his speed was jerking, hers steady. Harry could already see the looks on his teammates faces when the final score of "Gryffindor ten, Ravenclaw one-hundred fifty" was announced morosely over the loudspeaker.  
  
So of course Harry was surprised as anyone when, for the second time that night, Ron came out of nowhere with his bat poised and ready. All Harry could think was "Oh God, he's going to hit her, he's going to bash her head in, oh God." and clasped his hands over his eyes when Ron swung with all his might. But it wasn't Cho he hit.  
  
It was the snitch. Ron batted the snitch expertly towards Harry's chest, where it hit with an indignant squeak before Harry's startled hands clasped over it. Cho's startled shriek punctuated the astonishing capture.  
  
Harry felt the fluttering between his fingers, but still couldn't believe it. Had that actually just happened? COULD that actually just have happened? He prayed there was nothing against what had occurred in the rules and flew down to the ground with his teammates. Madame Hooch was already there, flipping through her rulebook and shaking her head. Finally, she looked up at Lee and nodded.  
  
"YESSSS! It's a legal play, ladies and gents, and Gryffindor wins it, one- sixty to zip!" The crowd exploded with applause and flooded the field, where George and Angelina had already propped Ron on their shoulders. Cheers of "Little Weasley, Little Weasley" resounded throughout the crimson and gold clad students as Ron turned bright red and beamed broadly.  
  
Despite his pride for his friend, Harry was ragingly upset with himself. HE was the seeker, HE was the one supposed to catch the snitch, not some beater flown in from the middle of the field. Trudging along behind the rampant mob into the locker room, Harry beat himself over the head with his Firebolt and cursed his own name once again.  
  
(^*^)  
  
The Gryffindor common room was uncontrollable, and only with Professor McGonagall's use of the Body-Bind Curse on Lee Jordan did everyone finally go up to their dormitories at two a.m. But of course, they didn't go to sleep.  
  
"That was the most brilliant thing I've ever seen!" Seamus Finnigan exclaimed, clapping Ron on the back.  
  
"Yeah, it was like you were playing baseball or something!" Dean Thomas agreed, earning confused stares by everyone else in the room.  
  
"What the heck is 'baseball,' you fruitcake?" asked Seamus, and Dean pursed his lips and shook his head.  
  
"Never mind, a muggle game, that's all." Dean explained.  
  
"Oh. Anyways, great game Ron! Who would've though you'd be so good? You never even tried to play before." Seamus commented, blowing off Dean's remark.  
  
"Dunno, it was Fred and George's thing. I didn't think I was allowed to, ya know?" said Ron, changing into his pajamas. He was handling his instant fame very well, actually, humoring even the most annoying first- year.  
  
Harry was so enraged he couldn't sleep. He hadn't joined in on the festivities that night, either, and just holed up in his dormitory claiming Transfiguration homework. Nobody wanted him there, anyways, since he wasn't the hero of the quidditch game this time. Ron was, Harry could tell. The giant "LITTLE WEASLEY" banners and cake said it all.  
  
He was happy for his friend, Ron needed this support. And he knew he couldn't be the best at every game, and at least he'd come through in the end by catching the snitch, but it was so unnerving. He was accustomed to, well, winning. To being the only quidditch superstar. He didn't realize how much he liked the spotlight until he was out of it.  
  
Of course, Harry didn't admit all these things to himself. He knew they were true, and mulled over them for a millisecond, but filed them away as soon as they registered. He refused to acknowledge that he wasn't perfect. Hermione and him were alike in that respect.  
  
Harry awoke, fitfully, at seven o'clock. He hadn't gotten much sleep, but he didn't want any. Being sullen was the only thing on his mind. So, of course, he sullenly put on his robes, sullenly stomped out of the common room, and sullenly entered the great hall.  
  
Once again, Draco Malfoy's purple face met him as the only soul in the room. He was sipping vegetable broth this morning, a nice change from yesterday's chicken. Sullen as Harry was, it was only natural to poke fun at the Slytherin again by making a show of having full use of his mouth.  
  
"Not enjoying the feeling of being number two for once, are we Potter?" Draco inquired with a smirk. His speech had certainly improved since the other day.  
  
"What happened, Malfoy, your girlfriend Millicent Burstrode get a little rough in bed, eh?" Harry returned, ignoring his statement.  
  
"Think of this as a premonition of what I could do to you." said Malfoy, gesturing to his battered face.  
  
"Is that a threat, you scaly git?" Harry retorted.  
  
"Oh no. It's an invitation."  
  
Harry was already angry enough, but Malfoy's jeers just detonated him. Without a thought, he reached behind him and grasped an apple, hurling it at the blonde boy in the blink of an eye.  
  
It hit Draco right in his bad jaw, and in slow motion Harry saw it crack, splinter, and finally break the boy's jawbone. "Consider that my RSVP." declared Harry.  
  
Malfoy just sat there for a moment, his mouth hanging open limply, not pain but hatred in his eyes. He mumbled what Harry assumed to be a swear if full use of his mouth had been allowed, then calmly reached inside his robes, with shaking hands, and pulled out his wand. For a second Harry thought he was going to curse him, but instead he pointed it at his wound and murmured something.  
  
A bluish mist seeped out of the end of Draco's wand and towards the broken part of his cheek. The boy closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath, looking blissful for a fleeting second, then his icy eyes were flung open again.  
  
"Touché." he stated with a raise of his eyebrows. Harry thought that was it, he had finally won. But it was only the beginning.  
  
The boy stood up, fiercely throwing his chair flying behind him. With trained and quick reflexes, Draco reached inside his robes and drew out his wand, sending a hex flying Harry's way. Harry dove, but it hit the hem of his robes and they burst into flame.  
  
"Vaningish!" Harry yelled, putting out the fire and turning to his opponent. They faced each other warily, revolving in a little circle between the house tables.  
  
Harry was the first to act. With a flick of his wand and muttering the firecracker spell, a great booming shot off towards Malfoy. He simply stepped out of the way and, with a flick of HIS wand, sent it right back at Harry. He only just got away in time, but the poor Hufflepuff table didn't. It was smashed to mere kindling, with patches burning here and there.  
  
Harry picked up a nastily sharp splinter and suspended it midair, halfway between him and Malfoy. They studied each other momentarily, Draco just daring Harry to do it. He did.  
  
Like a bullet, Harry ordered the javelin at his adversary. While he was directing it, Malfoy took advantage of the busy moment and launched himself at Harry. The weapon clattered harmlessly to the floor.  
  
Both boys fell to the floor in a heap of billowing robes, rolling over and over each other, and after a moment of intangible chaos Harry was pinned to the ground by the blonde boy's knees. Draco had grabbed a sharp scrap of table during the scuffle and now had it poised at Harry's jugular, daring him to move.  
  
A scary grin spread across Draco Malfoy's face, and Harry prepared to die.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: I love cliffhangers, as you can see. It's just the most fun way to end a chapter and drive y'all absolutely off your rocker! Muah-ah-ah..  
  
Can anybody here tell what theme I used for the names of the Ravenclaw quidditch players Kelley Bishop, Mick Guinness Bishop, Carl Albert, Norman North, Edmond Memorial, and Jenks? Cho Chang doesn't count, she was J.K. Rowling's character long ago. The one who guesses it gets a special surprise!  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com 


	15. Witch Weekly Strikes Again

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Fifteen  
  
A/N: Wow, that poor little review button got quite a bit of exercise from that last chappie, thank goodness. I was afraid the little guy was growing lazy and gluttonous. Here's to:  
  
Crawler: You don't like it that I put Nancy and George together?? But you SO have to keep reading! I'm going to have a plethora of fun with the whole Harry and Nancy but it's really George and Nancy stuffa. Pweese? *gives sad teary eyes* Otherwise, you can just not read the next two chaps or so and then the story'll be back on it's original tracks. I won't beg and plead any longer, except for this next sentence: WHAT CAN I DO TO MAKE YOU STAY?!?!?!?!?! lol, it's your choice, really, whether to miss out on this amazing bit of fan fiction or not.  
  
Bookworm2000: Whoa. So THAT's a snicket book. you're right, I do wish I hadn't asked. How confusing! I'll have to check those puppies out though, sounds interesting.  
  
Lauren: Heehee, your reviews make me feel like I'm tormenting you! Is it wrong that I like that feeling?  
  
Huntress: Oooh, you'll give me a cracker? OKAY!! *munches happily* yay-rah I love food! Thanks bundles for your 'long arse' review, it makes me feel all squishy inside to be compared to the ACTUAL author of the Harry Potter saga. Whoopee!  
  
Serie: Nope, Ravenclaw quidditch players aren't named after books! Nice guess though, and THE ONLY FRACKIN READER that managed to take a stab at it! Grr. well, thanks anyways.  
  
By the by, the theme I used for the Ravenclaw quidditch players were schools here in Oklahoma. Bishop Kelley and Bishop McGuinness are Catholic private schools, Carl Albert is, well, I dunno what, but we played them in volleyball. Norman North and Edmond Memorial are public schools, Norman is in the college town where OU is located (go Sooners!) and Edmond Memorial is in Edmond, OK and is frackin' BIG!! They've got, like, twelve million gymnasiums. Okay, more like three, but still, that's a lot for podunk okie- land!  
  
DISCLAIMER: Only cool people own Harry Potter. Which is why I don't.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Draco Malfoy had Harry pinned to the floor, a sharp piece of the former Hufflepuff table pressed against his neck. A crazed look was in the blonde boy's eyes, and Harry felt himself expecting to die.  
  
Suddenly, Draco shivered and his icy eyes melted. "Oh God," he whispered, taking the weapon away from Harry's throat and flinging it aside like it was in fire. "He's turned me into him. I'm no better than him." Malfoy was now shivering, and quickly he got up off of Harry and backed up against the cold, stone wall.  
  
"I - I'm sorry, Harry." he sputtered, using his enemy's first name for once, and with that fled the scene. Harry was left on the floor, chest heaving, still processing it all. The first thing was, 'Oh thank God I'm alive.' The next thought was. who was the 'him' Malfoy was so devastated at turning into? The first person Harry assumed was, of course, Voldemort, but since when had The Dark Lord invited schoolboys into his private circle?  
  
"Since Malfoy goes to Hogwarts with you." replied a voice inside Harry's pounding head. Oh heavens, could that be true? Could Voldemort have employed Draco to harm him, since they were both at Hogwarts and security was so tight that no other follower could get in? But then again, why would the Slytherin be so disappointed at becoming like him, it was a known fact that Draco idolized He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Things were certainly confusing in Harry's life.  
  
Slowly Harry got up from the floor, creaking bones protesting. It looked as if his left wrist might have suffered a nasty sprain, or even a break. He wished Malfoy would have stayed long enough to share his healing spell, but conjuring up a cast would have to suffice. Harry could always pass it off as injuring it during the quidditch match.  
  
For some odd reason, Harry felt no reason to tell Dumbledore about the little escapade that morning and get Malfoy in trouble. He'd get detention anyway for throwing the apple to begin with, it'd be in his best interests not to squeal. But the real reason for hiding the truth stayed hidden, stored in the same place as his sullen anger at not being the best; the look in Draco Malfoy's eyes was enough to cover all those years of torment and hatred and see, for the first time, a human being. No, a child. Draco looked positively disgusted at what he had done, what somebody had ingrained in him to do. And for the first time in his life, Harry felt sorry for the boy.  
  
It would have been so easy to forget that the whole thing happened and walk out of the great hall right then, had it been for the Hufflepuff House Table. The poor thing was now in thirty-seven trillion bits, strewn halfway across the hall. A dueling spell had reduced it to mere kindling. What to do?  
  
Suddenly, the answer to all Harry's problems walked into the room. Dobby. "What has master done in heres?" the house elf inquired, his tennis- ball eyes squinting in a scolding way.  
  
"An accident, Dobby, which I would be very much obliged for you to erase for me." Harry cunningly replied.  
  
"Oh no, Dumbledores said for Dobby to report any troubles to him alone, Dobby couldn't disobey his master, no, no, no!" And with that, the house elf bent over and bit his own knobbley knee, making very deep teeth marks. "Dobby is a bad house elf, Dobby mustn't betray master Dumbledore, master has been so kind to Dobby, so kind, so kind."  
  
"But remember me, Dobby, your old master Harry? Good Harry Potter, who freed you from Mr. Malfoy?" Harry hated to say it, he knew it was basically blackmailing his old friend, who had saved him during the third task of the TriWizard Tournament with the gillyweed. of course, he'd done it upon the urging of Professor Moody/Bartemius Crouch Jr., but he'd come through nonetheless. If Hermione could see him now, she would royally kick his butt.  
  
Dobby began stepping on his own toes like a madman while pondering Harry's tempting offer. "Dobby adores master Harry, sir, yes he does. But he can't. oh no, can't, can't, can't!"  
  
"Dumbledore will never KNOW, Dobby. And remember, he isn't your master, you're a free elf. Free, Dobby, you can do whatever you want." Harry pointed out.  
  
The house elf's face went blank, and then his eyes lit up (now resembling light bulbs), and he nodded emphatically. "Harry Potter is right, sir, his point is true! Dobby IS a free elf, and he can make whatever decisions he wants to! Yes, sir, Dobby will help his good friend master Harry!" Delighted with his choice, the little elf began scurrying around picking up bits of table.  
  
"How're we going to replace it, Dobby? I mean, there's no way people won't notice a whole table missing!" Harry inquired.  
  
"Oh, not to worry Harry Potter, not to worry. Dobby has it under control." the house elf answered with a wink. As soon as every last table bit was collected, down to the tiniest splinter, Dobby raised his hands above his head profoundly, bringing them down suddenly with a loud SWOOSH.  
  
The bits of table quivered, rearranging themselves on the floor, the old Hufflepuff table taking shape once more. The cracks were fused together, as if the wood was growing at top speed, and not a scratch could be seen.  
  
"That's amazing, Dobby! How did you do that?" asked Harry incredulously.  
  
Dobby winked. "House elves have powerful magic, sir, yes they do. They just don't let on much, do they?"  
  
"No, they don't. Dumbledore's lucky he's got a friend like you." Harry complimented, running his hands over the flawless surface. Harry's own astonished face was shining back up at him from the mirror-like mahogany.  
  
Dobby clapped his hands to his mouth and shook his head. "Oh no sir, you can't mean that Dobby is - is master Dumbledore's friend??" And then, with a squeal of utter delight, Dobby rushed forward and hugged Harry's knees tightly.  
  
"Dobby is lucky to have a friend like you, Harry Potter sir. Lucky, lucky, lucky." whispered the house elf to the boy's legs. Harry patted the egg-shaped head affectionately. Though odd more often than not, Dobby was certainly an appreciative little creature.  
  
"Oh! Dobby must be going, sir, but he will make you a special breakfast just for you, yes he will! Goodbye Mr. Harry sir! Thank you!" Dobby called as he rushed out the door, and then with a sudden crack he was gone.  
  
How it had gotten from Dobby doing Harry a favor, to Dobby thanking Harry profusely for LETTING him do the favor could never be deciphered, with a cheerful smile on his face the boy grabbed the thrown apple up off the floor and walked out of the room.  
  
(^*^)  
  
In a slightly better mood, Harry entered the common room a mere fifteen minutes after leaving it, though it felt more like fifteen years. Hermione was up already, along with Neville, who was asking her questions on the Potions homework they had been assigned the previous day. The remainder of the Gryffindor house was fast asleep, recovering from the mad partying last night.  
  
"Good morning, Harry." Hermione greeted.  
  
"Yeah, hey." nodded Harry.  
  
Harry was on his way upstairs when Neville's voice stopped him. "Is it true, Harry? Are you and Nancy really going out?" the round boy asked.  
  
Harry took a big breath and got ready to fib. "Yup, Nan is my little honey all right." It came out a bit more sarcastic than he'd intended.  
  
"Really? That's great! You see, when I saw the newspaper this morning, I thought it was just gossip. You know, the junk they usually write about in Witch Weekly." replied Neville.  
  
Harry's heart began pumping rapidly at these words as his worst fear was realized. Rita Skeeter? Oh no, it can't be, not again! "Wha-wha. huh?"  
  
"Witch Weekly, you know, the magical magazine? You're in it once again, old boy." Hermione suggested.  
  
"WHAT?!" screeched Harry, marching back over to the table. "Here, lemme see."  
  
"Right here, under 'Young Love.'" directed Hermione.  
  
"My life is over." Harry declared as he read the article.  
  
YOUNG LOVE by Natosha Knosie.  
  
Last year, Witch Weekly took it upon itself to monitor the activities of our dear Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, at boarding school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you all know, we reported that poor Harry's delicate heart was broken by the coarse Hermione Granger, who refused his love. Well, we now happily report that Harry has recovered and moved on.  
  
According to numerous reports, the boy is now dating a spunky first- year Nancy Freeston. They recently celebrated their one-month anniversary, to which Harry surprised the attractive girl by a romantic dinner beneath the stars in the astronomy tower. A close friend of the couple was quoted to say that "Those two can't seem to keep their hands off each other, and even had a go in a closet together in the common room."  
  
Well, I'm sure that now Ms. Granger is rethinking her refusal of Potter's adoration.  
  
"In the closet, huh Harry?" Neville inquired with a knowing grin.  
  
"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!!" Harry roared, throwing the paper down on the table.  
  
"Now, now, you can't expect your private affairs to go unnoticed, what with your reputation and all. I'm surprised they didn't massacre you further." tutted Hermione, smoothing the article.  
  
"Oh my Lord, and they tore you to bits 'Mione! I'm so sorry!" Harry apologized.  
  
"Not to worry, nobody I know even reads this magazine anyways. You and Ron know it's not true, and you're the only one's I care about." Hermione answered. Harry thought this was very mature of her, they had made her out to be an uncaring sycophant.  
  
(A/N: Okay, so I'm not quite sure what a 'sycophant' is, but it's a fun word, huh?)  
  
"Well, whether you wanted to or not, your relationship is out in the open now." Neville pointed out.  
  
"Darnit, and Nancy's parents! D'you think they're reading it right now? And do you think I'm going to be getting a howler anytime soon for cradle robbing their daughter?" Harry speculated. He prayed that Mr. Freeston wasn't a big man.  
  
"I'm sure any parent would be delighted to have YOU as a prospective son-in-law. I mean, you're a celebrity. You're Harry Potter! They're positively going to love you." Hermione comforted, but that just made Harry feel worse. What were the parents going to think when they discovered that The-Boy-Who-Lived actually wasn't their son-in-law, and instead it was the even older George Weasley, troublemaker, prankster, and now practically a felon!  
  
"Erm, yay. Good for me, then, I guess." Harry stated, then rushed upstairs to tell George before anybody else did.  
  
"George. hey George, get up, this is really important." Harry coaxed as he poked the red head.  
  
"Eymphred." he mumbled.  
  
"Up and at 'em, loverboy, because we've got major problems." prodded Harry.  
  
"I said, I'm FRED!" the redhead said, rolling over and displaying the telltale freckle on his nose that was the only way to really tell the twins apart.  
  
"Oh, erm, false alarm then. Goodnight!" stated Harry cheerily. Fred just groaned and fell back asleep.  
  
Harry walked over to the other redhead and poked this one. "George?" he asked, taking a precaution this time.  
  
"Wha?" George replied.  
  
"Get up, I've got big things to talk to you about," Harry declared. George just buried his head further into his pillow. "It's about Nancy and I." This got him to shoot out of bed like a rocket.  
  
"What's wrong, has somebody discovered that it's really me?" asked George in a panic. That shows where his main concern really lay.  
  
"No. here, let's discuss this downstairs." Harry prodded, leading the sleepy Weasley to a corner of the Common Room.  
  
"Read." commanded Harry, shoving the article under George's nose. His eyes got bigger and bigger as he read on.  
  
"We're screwed." he stated, when finished.  
  
"No, not if we get a plan together quick enough. Look, Nancy's parents have probably read it and told all their friends and neighbors that Harry Potter is dating their little bundle of joy. So this morning, quick as anything, we've got to set everyone straight, and even get Nancy to write to her parents." Harry instructed.  
  
George's face paled. "No, I couldn't stand it! How can I stack up to YOU as dating their daughter? I'm three years older than you, and have never even gotten close to defeating You-Know-Who single handedly."  
  
"Well, neither have I!" Harry corrected. "Listen George, you're plenty brave and honorable. You've dealt with your curse really well, are co-captain slash coach of the House quidditch team, were accepted onto the team of your choice for the Beater position, and are an aspiring entrepreneur. They'll be more than happy!"  
  
"No, they'll slaughter my remaining limbs and then leave the rest of me to my own parents! Shoot, Mum'll murder me, Dad'll throw a fit and probably whip out the old 'birds and the bees' talk, and I'll never hear the end of it from Fred."  
  
"George, do you really like her?"  
  
"Well, of course I do. I knew what I was getting into when we started this relationship, but she just fell into my lap so cute and perfect and funny and understanding and -"  
  
"Yeah, I get it."  
  
"Anyways, the long and short of it is, yeah, I really do love Nancy."  
  
"Then this should all be worth it! To heck with the parents, you only see them for the summer holidays, right? And I'm sure Fred'll have nothing but support and a hint of jealousy for you two's relationship."  
  
"You think so?"  
  
"I know so. C'mon, we've better start getting started on this letter." Harry recommended, whipping out a readied piece of parchment and quill.  
  
"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Freeston." George dictated, as Harry scribbled in his neatest handwriting.  
  
(^*^)  
  
When Nancy Freeston awoke that morning, around noon, she had a nasty surprise waiting for her. A mob of Gryffindor girls had gathered expectantly around her bed and were whispering excitedly. She heard fragments of their voices.  
  
Lavender cooed, "How romantic! A surprise dinner!"  
  
"In the astronomy tower no less. Oh, I never knew Harry was such a. stud." added Parvati dreamily.  
  
"I wish more men could be like Mr. Potter." Katie Bell mused.  
  
"Sneaking into closets for snatches of forbidden passion. how romantic." Ginny fantasized out loud.  
  
But before Nancy's eyes could bug out to any further point of expulsion, a swift knock sounded on the door. "Who is it?" the chorus of girls asked as one voice.  
  
"It's Harry, I need to speak to Nancy." answered the person behind the door.  
  
Squeals and shrieks of excitement ensued as the throng dashed up to be the first at the door, Angelina in the lead. "Yes, go right on ahead." she greeted, twenty other giggling girls craning their necks to get a glimpse of this hot new commodity.  
  
Whispers shadowed Harry across the room to Nancy. "Look, how sweet!"  
  
"Probably bringing her breakfast in bed, aww."  
  
"Watch, he'll give her a kiss. Kiss her, kiss her!"  
  
Harry cleared his throat politely. The starers stared on. "Um, can I please be alone with her for just a second?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, er, of course. Have fun!" the girls chimed as they stampeded out the door, albeit a bit reluctantly. Finally the two 'sweethearts' were alone.  
  
"So." Harry began awkwardly, making his way around the first-year girls dormitories.  
  
"WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON HERE?!?" Nancy bellowed, her hands shaking furiously.  
  
"You do get right to the point, now don't you?" Harry chided, but upon a murderous stare from the small blonde he continued. "Well, um, it appears that everyone thinks we're somewhat of an item."  
  
"Hmm, I supposed that much. But what is this of the astronomy tower and closets and snatches of forbidden passion?!" persisted Nancy, standing up off her bed in front of Harry in her teddy-bear flannel nightie. It would have actually been quite funny if she wasn't fuming at the time.  
  
"Well, people thought that it was ME that was dating you, instead of George. It must've gotten around, and then Witch Weekly decided it would be of public interest if they published a small article about you and I. And, well, it included things that I certainly assure you I never said or thought of doing."  
  
"Such as.?" Nancy prompted, tapping her toe furiously.  
  
"Such as, well, for our one month anniversary I surprised you with dinner in the astronomy tower."  
  
"ONE MONTH?! We've been going out for one month and nobody decided to tell me?"  
  
"Chill out! I guess they've been fed a little misinformation."  
  
"Thank you, Captain Obvious, now how do we go about fixing this little fiasco?"  
  
"Umm. I was thinking the first thing to do would be write your parents." Harry recommended. Nancy's face paled.  
  
"My-my parents? Do they really have to know, I mean, I don't really like them that much, couldn't I just wait a week and then tell them we broke up?"  
  
"What? No, I can't do that, and besides, what about the rest of England?"  
  
"They can just mind their own business, and my parents can live in their own little charade. They're happier there, I promise you. No good ever comes from telling my father the truth."  
  
"C'mon now, you can't seriously mean that!"  
  
"Oh but you see I do. He's an ex-colonel in the army."  
  
"Ex is good though, right? Enjoying a nice fat pension?"  
  
"He was fired for working a lower officer to the brink of emotional collapse." Nancy explained. Harry cringed.  
  
"But still, they ARE your parents. They'd understand a little miss media, right? I mean, who's to know they even believe that load of crap anyway?"  
  
Just then, as a fitting punctuation to Harry's hopeful rambling, a stuck-up looking tawny owl pecked his beak incessantly on the window.  
  
"No. that's the family owl, Poindexter." Nancy explained with dread in her voice.  
  
Trembling, Harry opened the window and took the letter from the owl's leg. It flew inside and began nesting in Nancy's pillow, but she didn't heed it. Both her and Harry were busy reading the following letter:  
  
Our Dearest Daughter Nancy,  
  
Greetings sweetie, how is your first term at Hogwarts going? I'm sure you're enjoying it, from what your father and I heard this morning. It seems Witch Weekly was under the impression that you've got yourself a little boyfriend, and a fifth-year no less! Well, Mummie was a little aghast at first from finding out such a thing, especially from a magazine, but I see now why you desired to hide it from your parents.  
  
Don't be nervous about going with such a celebrity, darling, we think it's a match made in heaven! Harry is quite the gentleman, from what we hear, brave and valiant and a promising quidditch player. He's a perfectly fine suitor for you.  
  
And here's the best part! Mummie and Daddy are going to come up and visit your school this weekend! There is positively no stopping us, our minds are made up. We miss you so, and would love to meet this little boyfriend of yours.  
  
With love,  
  
Mummie and Daddy  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: I love being evil, yes I do, yes I do, as I'm sure is apparent from this story. This is getting to be quite fun, yes it is, yes it is, and I cannot wait to begin the next chapter! But, alas for you all in reader- land, you cannot find out what's going on until next week, next week! Ooo, doubly evil for me, for me! K, that's getting annoying, annoying, so I'm gonna stop now, stop now. argh, I can't, I'm hooked, I'm hooked! It's a disease! NOOOOOOO!  
  
Love from, Love from,  
  
Saranimal, Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com, HaloGal5@aol.com  
  
P.S. Hey, I have to ask y'all a quick question about the first Harry Potter book: When Harry, Ron, and Hermione went after the Sorcerer's Stone, why were the chess board and Snape's logic puzzle vials unused when they got there? How did Quirrell get through the chess board w/o messing it up, and pass through the fire thingy w/o using up the elixir? I was confused by this.. of course, it's the fiftieth time I've read the book and I just caught it now, so yah, jus wondering. Talk to y'all later, taa-taa, and thanks for the input I'll hopefully get this time around!! 


	16. Meet the Parents

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Sixteen  
  
A/N: Ah, here it is, the infamous long-awaited visit from the in- laws. well, not technically Harry's in-laws, but you get the gist anywho, right? GOOD.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Some people own Harry Potter. Some people don't own Harry Potter and pretend that they do. Some people like to run around with fruit on their heads and pretend to be a flamenco dancer named Roy the Toy. So many lifestyles. so little time. ;)  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Mummie and Daddie are coming for a little visit to see your adorable boyfriend, are they?" said Harry with dread.  
  
"This is so bad. you don't know my parents, Harry, they're - ugh, I can't even begin to describe." replied Nancy, pacing around the first-year girls dormitories.  
  
"Well, looks like I'm about to know your parents. what are we going to do? George'll be horrified." Harry predicted.  
  
And so he was. Ten minutes later, when Harry and Nancy finally broke the news to him over breakfast, he was so panicked he actually ran out of the great hall. Chasing after him as nonchalant as possible, the two caught up with him on his way up the flight of stairs. He was stuck in the trick step.  
  
"I cant BELIEVE this!" George yelled, his voice cracking. Harry felt sorry for his friend, and wasn't really even that mad about being blamed for going out with Nancy. Well, not as mad as he was before, anyway.  
  
"We can get through this, I know we can." Nancy comforted, trying to help George pry his foot out of the step.  
  
"First things first though. we've got to tell everyone else at Hogwarts." recommended Harry.  
  
"Tell everyone what, Harry?" Ron's voice asked. The three of them jumped as the youngest Weasley boy came out of the great hall. "You three ran out of breakfast so fast; what the heck is going on here?"  
  
Harry and George exchanged looks, and Harry took a deep breath and turned to Ron. George was swiping at him furiously, but Harry just stepped out of his reach, and the twin was pinned to the spot by his sunken leg. "You see -" Harry began.  
  
But he didn't finish his explanation. George had unclipped his prosthetic leg and tackled Harry, and both boys rolled down the stairs with several unhealthy thumps along the way. The two landed at the foot of the stairs in a tangled heap.  
  
"OW! Geroff, Harry, my elbow doesn't bend that way." George protested.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry George, I would move but some prat has decided to tackle me, and then sit on my head." Harry replied sarcastically. Nancy and Ron rushed down the stairs and helped their two friends up.  
  
"What were you going to say, Harry?" Ron asked again.  
  
"NOTHING!" George interrupted, taking his prosthetic leg from Nancy that she had retrieved from the trick step and began putting it back on.  
  
"George, let him say it." Nancy pleaded, stroking his arm. He calmed down a bit, and then shook his head.  
  
"If anything I should be the one to say it. After all, this whole mess is my fault." insisted George. And then, with a sigh, the belated explanation began.  
  
"Ron, Harry and Nancy were never a couple. Harry was just covering for me - Nancy does have an older boyfriend, but it isn't him." At this point, George found it difficult to go on.  
  
"Who is it then?" Ron asked after a expectant silence, looking at all three of them.  
  
"It's me, Ron. I'm the culprit. Nancy and I - we're the ones going out." George finally declared, very rapidly, looking at the floor the whole time.  
  
"WHAT?!" was the first thing out of Ron's mouth. Then he began to chuckle. His chuckle turned into a snicker, then from that to a laugh, then to a riotous mad guffaw. George looked enraged. "Oh - oh no, this is just too good. Ha, this is the best thing I've ever heard!" Ron got out between giggles.  
  
"What's so hilarious about it?" his brother demanded.  
  
"Everyone thinks it's Harry - and. HA! and all the girls are swooning, it's published in a magazine for Merlin's sake! And the best part is. hehe - HE DIDN'T EVEN DO IT!" Ron pointed out. The redhead then collapsed onto the floor and continued to laugh uproariously.  
  
Harry had to admit, it was pretty funny. Even George and Nancy started to smile. "That wasn't so bad, huh Georgie?" Nancy asked. Her beau just glared at her, and the four of them walked into the great hall once more.  
  
When George, Nancy, Ron, and Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table, there was a mad scuffle of girls to sit next to Harry. Parvati and Lavender even got in a minor catfight over who would pass Harry the biscuits when he asked for them - and in the end Hermione sighed loudly and got up from her seat at the opposite end of the table and grabbed what was left of the bread basket from the two girls and handed it to Harry. He smiled gratefully and she just raised her eyebrows at the scowling girls and smiled.  
  
During Potions that day, poor Neville was left in the dark while every girl in the room, save Hermione, grappled to be partners with Harry. In the end their substitute, Professor Dorkin, was forced to use the Body-Bind Curse on Lavender and Parvati, who again were getting the worst of it. When the mob of females had finally settled down, Harry bandaged his badly scratched arm where Lavender had seized it.  
  
Hermione was sitting with Ron behind her friend, tears streaming down her face from laughter.  
  
While brewing Hormeyer Potion, used to relieve stomach cramps and gas, out of the blue Parvati raised her hand and asked Professor Dorkin about love potions. Snape had purposefully skipped that unit, of course, and all the girls were just dying to get their hands on some.  
  
"Well, it's very complicated, advanced ingredients, yes, yes. hmm. very risky procedure, and when used, it makes the victim fall hopelessly in love with the brewer. fortunately, there is a counter-potion, so the effects are reversible." the substitute Potions Master explained, stroking his beard and trying to decide whether to give in or not.  
  
Harry prayed the teacher would hold firm and not tell the girls the potion. He wouldn't be able to drink anything for the next three years without falling in love with someone or another.  
  
But, fortunately for Harry, Professor Dorkin made a deal with the girls that if they did the Hormeyer Potion for today, then next week he would teach them the love potion. Harry knew that by then, the word would've gotten around that he'd never done any of those romantic things and he'd go back to being invisible. Surprisingly, Harry felt himself feeling a bit saddened by the idea. Although misdirected, the attention had actually been quite a nice change.  
  
After Potions, a mob of girls huddled behind Harry all the way to the great hall for lunch. "This is utter madness!" Hermione screamed with exasperation, pushing back an eager first-year girl who had been stepping on Hermione's shoes in an attempt to get close to Harry.  
  
"I think its rather comical, actually." Ron teased, and got a glare of death from Harry.  
  
"It's getting bad, you guys, I mean bad. Somebody stole my Astronomy homework just because I had written my name on it! It took me three hours just to do the thing all over again." explained Harry.  
  
"Don't worry Harry, I'm sure the little nympho's will settle down once they learn the truth." Ron comforted.  
  
"The truth? What horrible rumor is going around this time?" Hermione asked, puzzled. Harry and Ron glanced quickly at each other, remembering that they hadn't told their other friend the real story yet.  
  
"Oh, erm, well. I'm not exactly dating Nancy, per say." Harry said slowly.  
  
"Per say? What, only your left leg is dating her?" Hermione suggested, laughing at her own wit. Harry smiled weakly.  
  
"Well, actually George Weasley's left leg is the one dating her, along with the rest of his body." said Harry.  
  
Mixed emotions flicked across Hermione's face at this. There was bewilderment, surprise, and somewhat to Harry's delight a look of relief. "What the - how - why does everyone think its you then?"  
  
By now the group had been seated at the house table, Ron and Hermione on either side of Harry as to revert another battle in the war for a seat next to The-Boy-Who-Lived. "Well, that one night when I came out of the closet with Nancy, remember that?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Well, of course. That looked really, really odd of you two, coming out of a small closet all rumpled and red and stuff." Perhaps the note of envy in her voice was just Harry's imagination.  
  
"You see, what you didn't notice was that George came out of the closet a few minutes later. It was him and Nancy in there, I just happened to walk in at the wrong time. George didn't tell anyone because he was scared, he didn't want people to get the wrong idea." Harry continued.  
  
"So he let everyone get the wrong idea anyways by agreeing with me when I asked him about Harry and Nancy," Ron put in. "Sorry about that, Har, I kinda started this whole fiasco, didn't I?"  
  
"Yes you did." Harry replied, whacking his friend upside his red head.  
  
"Wait, wait, wait. so that article in Witch Weekly is a fake? There was no relationship, no dinner in the astronomy tower, no making out in closets?" Hermione confirmed.  
  
"Correct." replied Harry. Again, Hermione looked relieved, and Harry was puzzled, but pleased nonetheless, by this.  
  
Unfortunately, this made a whopping TWO people that were aware of the actual truth, and many many others to tell. George felt the next person who should be told would be Fred, and Harry and Nancy let him tackle that one on his own. The seventh-year boys dormitories were awfully quiet for about ten minutes before the shouting began. The noises were muffled, but one voice sounded condescending while the other pleading. Harry felt for George, but after all this whole thing was his own fault.  
  
A couple minutes later the shouting stopped. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Nancy looked at each other all thinking the same thing: had one of the twins been murdered? But in the next few seconds George and Fred came back down, arm in arm, and approached the waiting group.  
  
"From what I hear, you're my future sister-in-law." Fred commented, grabbing Nancy's hand and shaking it.  
  
The little blonde smiled. "So I guess you've heard. what's the verdict? You approve, or do we have to quiver in fear for the rest of the year?"  
  
Fred laughed, and George seemed to relax a bit. "No, I approve just fine. Congratulations, on both the matrimony and the fine chaos you've gotten Harry into." said Fred.  
  
"I do feel bad about that, Harry. what can I do to make it up to you?" George inquired earnestly.  
  
Just then, Parvati and Lavender walked by, waving, winking, and sauntering in a revoltingly seductive way. "Hi Harry." Parvati cooed, in a husky voice much deeper than her normal one.  
  
Ron, Hermione, the twins, and Nancy burst into laughter as soon as the girls had walked away. "You could start by letting everyone know the truth." Harry ordered.  
  
(^*^)  
  
Fred was really the only one that George had been dreading to tell, and with his brothers behind him the next week was spent bravely battling the evil Witch Weekly article. Harry began getting tailed less and less, the whistles and theft dwindled, and pretty soon a small war wasn't being fought over seats at the Gryffindor table. By Friday night, Harry was even left to do his Transfiguration essay in peace.  
  
Though not all was peachy keen. The next day, bright and early in the morning, Nancy's 'mummie and daddie' were coming to visit. Headmaster Dumbledore had reserved a special breakfast room for the family to meet in the morning and eat in privacy, so at least if the parents threw a scene there wouldn't be anyone to gawk. But then again, there wouldn't be any witnesses if the colonel decided to get a little rough with the actual courtier of his daughter.  
  
Harry hardly slept that night. Even after the hard quidditch practice, his aching bones and muscles only aided in keeping him in the land of the conscious.  
  
"Must you be such a slave driver, Angie?" George had griped to the team captain. He was on edge that night because of his anxiety about the coming morning. The poor boy had suffered dearly for that remark, their captain had made him do ten extra laps around the field before he could go in.  
  
Before their long-awaited slumber, however, Harry and George had sat down and written out a speech to recite the next day to the parentals. George was to use a lot of correct grammar and manners, and to come off as the perfect gentleman. And, consequently, to make that good behavior stand out even more, before any of the news was said Harry was to behave as an uncouth punk. This was hoped to make Mummie and Daddie welcome their well- behaved son-in-law with a bit of warm relief.  
  
At five o'clock, a mere four hours of sleep later, a loud banging resounded on the fifth-year's dormitory door. "Floggit all, get the door Harry, it's prolly George." Ron hollered from his bunk.  
  
Harry rose, with effort, and answered the persistent knocking on the door. Sure enough, George Weasley stood there looking like something out of Sense and Sensibility. He was wearing a yellow collared shirt and khaki slacks, with a smart scarlet bowtie. His long black cloak was slung over that getup, which brushed the tops of his shiny loafers. But it was face that most startled Harry; his usual mop of red hair was combed back with what looked like the same axle grease Hagrid used, and a pair of golden spectacles sat on George's nose. Harry had never seen George wearing glasses, and suspected they weren't necessary.  
  
"How do I look?" George asked, spinning round and shrugging his shoulders at Harry.  
  
"Wonderful, especially for freaking FIVE IN THE MORNING!!!" shouted Harry, and was prepared to shut the door in his face before George spoke again.  
  
"I know its early, but I couldn't sleep. I've been up for two hours already, getting prepared, and this is what I came up with. Is it okay? D'you suppose I'll come off as a gentleman with a lot of potential?" George asked desperately. He was genuinely freaking out over this.  
  
"You'll come off as a prick with that bowtie," Harry suggested, relenting and nudging any idea of sleep out of his brain. "You'd better lose it."  
  
At once, George reached to his throat and ripped off the bowtie; it had been a clip on. "What about the glasses? Too much?" he persisted.  
  
"Dunno, in fact they're not that bad if you actually did need them. Her parents haven't seen you before, so you could get away with it if you wanted, but for the rest of your life whenever you saw them, you would have to whip out the specs."  
  
"I don't care what happens the rest of my life, all I want is today to go well, because if today goes well, then I will get a chance to HAVE the rest of my life."  
  
"Fair enough. But there's just one more thing." said Harry.  
  
"What, what is it? My freckles too showy? My prosthetic legs too long, too bendy, what?" George asked, panicking.  
  
"The brown loafers clash with the black cloak." Harry stated simply.  
  
George quickly whipped out his wand and pointed it at his shoes, changing them to black. "Honestly, you sound like Hermione. Better now?" he asked, stepping back and forth.  
  
"Much." Harry agreed, shaking his head at the antics of his nervous friend.  
  
(^*^)  
  
Another four hours later, Harry, Nancy, and George were seated in the Olive Branch Room, the title of which the three hoped was an omen. It was a very official-looking conference room that Dumbledore had been perceptive enough to prepare for their little excursion that morning. Harry had a feeling the headmaster knew exactly what news was going to be disclosed that morning, too.  
  
Harry could tell that the wait was killing George. He had decided to keep the spectacles, he said they made him look smarter. But currently they were sliding down his nose at an alarming pace because of how much the poor guy was sweating. "You'll be fine Georgie, don't worry!" Nancy tried to comfort him, but he just jumped a foot into the air at her touch and knocked a glass to the floor. It shattered into a million pieces on impact, which just put George in a more pathetic position.  
  
"You're going to make yourself sick, the way you're obsessing like this. Settle down, if you just take it slow I know you'll be perfectly acceptable." chirruped Harry, repairing the glass and setting it back on the table, though further from the edge this time.  
  
"Can't help it - nervous - sick - scared to death." George panted, too far gone to string together comprehensive sentences. Things weren't looking very good for the poor guy.  
  
Finally, after a ten-minute wait that seemed to span a year or two, Mummie and Daddie finally showed.  
  
Nancy's mother was very tall and graceful, with cropped blonde hair and bored brown eyes overly-painted with shocking blue eyeshadow. Harry thought that she looked pretty good for a woman of presumably forty, she wore a flashy sapphire cloak that matched her eyeshadow and barely came down to her knees.  
  
Colonel Freeston, however, struck great fear into the hearts of all three youngsters. You could fit five of his wife across his belly, even though he was barely an inch taller than her himself. He wasn't obese like Uncle Vernon, Harry noticed, but carried a dignified bulk around his middle that came off as a threatening statement of other people he may have eaten in his lifetime. He was wearing the uniform from his days in the British Army, studded with medals and patches for bravery and killing. The dark hair on his head was buzzed short in a flat top, and he had traces of facial hair down his chin like he had been out late hunting down terrorists and hadn't had time to shave. The man certainly didn't look like he would be referred to as 'Grampa' some day. Harry felt very sorry for Nancy, having to have grown up with something like that.  
  
"Why hello darling!" Mrs. Freeston squealed as soon as she got in the room, and her daughter rushed up to her and they embraced coolly. "Mummie has missed you so much, Nancy dear! Give Mummie a nice kiss." Nancy obliged, pecking her mother on each cheek as merely an empty symbol of affection.  
  
"Good morning, Mother." Nancy greeted in a shy whisper, a voice Harry and George had never heard her use before. It sounded caged, withheld, like that of a beaten dog. If dogs could speak, that is.  
  
"How's my little soldier?" the Colonel inquired gruffly, saluting his daughter.  
  
"Very well, Papa. I trust you are in good health?" Nancy asked politely.  
  
"Perfect fighting condition." the man replied.  
  
Then Nancy turned around to her two friends still seated awkwardly at the table. "Mother, Father, I would like to introduce you to someone. This is -"  
  
"Oh my goodness, Harry Potter!" Mrs. Freeston interrupted, rushing over to Harry. "We've heard so much about you and our little Nancy, oh, and we think it's simply marvelous, right Butch?"  
  
"Yes, yes, bloody good match up, you two." Nancy's father agreed. Harry opened his mouth to speak and found that he couldn't make any sound come out. He heard a terrified squeak escape from George next to him.  
  
It looked as if their rehearsed speech had gone right out the window.  
  
Finally, remembering his (bad) manners, Harry showed some signs of life. "Hey. 'Sup." he said, somehow taking on the accent of a thug in the process.  
  
"And this," Nancy began again, coming around to stand next to George. "is George Weasley."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Nancy's mother snapped quickly. Then she turned back to Harry. "We're simply delighted to have you as almost a part of the family."  
  
"Yes, it's quite an honor to have such a man for Nancy. Our little dumpling can't go with just any boy." the Colonel remarked. Harry saw George stare at his shoes and gulp ashamedly.  
  
"The rest of the family's just as delighted, of course. Auntie Beatrice is sending you a complimentary cloak with the Freeston crest embroidered on it. You'll love it." Mrs. Freeston explained. It was now Harry's turn to gulp.  
  
"You know, mother, don't you think you're being a bit presumptuous?" Nancy interjected, trying to undo what had been done.  
  
But her mother just waggled a finger at her. "Oh no, you can't get our hooks out of him that easily, Nancy. Harry and you are simply meant to be together, you just cannot convince your father or me otherwise."  
  
"You can't?" Harry asked.  
  
"No." Mr. Freeston answered, with such a firm and decisive glare that Harry seriously began to fear for George's life when he got around to telling them. If he ever DID tell them.  
  
"Let's sit down for breakfast, shall we?" Nancy prompted, to Harry's immense relief. Being surrounded by her parents like that was beginning to resemble an ambush.  
  
"So, how are your classes going?" Mrs. Freeston asked.  
  
"Nicely, Mother. We've begun learning Summoning Charms." explained Nancy blandly.  
  
"That's nice." her mother answered.  
  
"Oh Denise, aren't we forgetting something?" Mr. Freeston inquired.  
  
"Goodness gracious, I nearly forgot!" his wife exclaimed in response. "Harry, Butch would like to give you a little something. Nancy, step out with Mommie for a moment, let's give these boys their privacy."  
  
As Nancy and her mother left the room, Harry and George stared after them. Harry was convinced that Butch Freeston was going to give him one of two things: a sex talk or a whipping. Both seemed equally painful.  
  
Mr. Freeston cleared his throat. "You - Greg - out." the man ordered, pointing to George as he spoke. Gleefully the redhead leapt up and shot out of the room; you'd have thought he had a gun to his head.  
  
"Now, Harry," Mr. Freeston began. The man was pacing up and down in front of the table, making Harry feel as if he was being interrogated. "I feel very close to you already, as if you were my very own son. Nancy is very fond of you, I'm sure of it. She's told us so much about you."  
  
Harry thought this was extremely odd, since he knew for a fact that Nancy had never mentioned him in one letter home. "Oh really?" the boy commented with a half-smirk.  
  
The Colonel started fishing around in his uniform's breast pocket. "So naturally, I would like to present you with a token of the family's affection for you." He withdrew a small velvet box, which shocked fear into Harry's heart. It couldn't be a -  
  
"Heirloom wedding ring." Mr. Freeston stated. Harry's mouth suddenly felt very cottony, and his toes seemed to fall off.  
  
"Y-you want me to marry Nancy? NOW?!" Harry stammered, dumbfounded.  
  
The burly man chuckled. "Of course not. But you see, Denise was just seventeen when we married, and I was a mere three years older than that. Young love is an amazing thing, Harry, and it gave us strength. And now, thirteen years later, we still love each other as much as the first day we met."  
  
"So. so this is just for the future?" Harry guessed.  
  
"An investment, if you will. A promise to make a promise. This is for that special day, in the not-so-far away future, when you will propose marriage to my daughter. And then you really will be a member of the family."  
  
Mr. Freeston's words were punctuated by a loud BANG, as the door crashed open and George clambered into the room.  
  
"NO!" he shouted, his face as white as a sheet, his freckles reduced to grayish speckles. "I LOVE NANCY!!"  
  
Harry thought this was a very brave, but very stupid, thing to do.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Dunno why I love cliffhangers so much. Makes life more interesting, meh. But this whole scene with Nancy's parents was getting really, really long and I want to space it out. So. here you go. Half the confession. And you'll have the next in due time, don't fret. I promise to do my best to stay alive over the next week, and avoid high-traffic or radioactive areas. I'd hate to croak and leave y'all hanging!  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com (Don't forget to write!) 


	17. And the REAL Story Continues

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Seventeen  
  
A/N: Okay, I promise you, the Nancy/George Saga will be resolved this chapter. So, Crawler, if you're still out there, chapter eighteen will get back to the original plotline. I feel kinda bad for abandoning it like that, for the sake of love. Ah, but what a sake. I WISH I HAD SOME!!!!!!!!!! (I'm not bitter.)  
  
OK, what is UP with all the begging for me not to make this a Harry/Hermione fic? I happen to LIKE H/H fics personally, and you can't stop me even if I decide to make it one! *sticks out tongue* MEH!  
  
Seriously folks, this is what I think J.K. Rowling's gonna do with book five. And, therefore, I shall not have really that much main character romance. Well. I'm gonna eat my foot later, but right now, NO! So just relax, alright? Ugh, you won't pull a Crawler on me and decide not to read my story anymore if I put them together, will you? PLEEAASE DON'T!! I don't think I can take any more rejection!  
  
DISCLAIMER: The many voices in my head have aided in developing this plotline. and not ONE of them owns the idea of Harry Potter, either!  
  
* * * * *  
  
George was standing in the doorway of the Olive Branch Room, breathing heavily, staring at the rather stunned face of Butch Freeston. Harry was so stunned he could barely move.  
  
"HARRY WILL NOT MARRY NANCY!! If anyone should, it's ME!!" George shouted.  
  
Harry could tell the only reason the Colonel hadn't beaten George to a pulp yet was he was shocked. But he was fast recovering from his stupor, and getting redder and redder in the face.  
  
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" he roared, his jaw looking as if it had come unhinged.  
  
"George Henry Weasley, sir."  
  
"And where the HELL do you get off interrupting me?" Mr. Freeston persisted.  
  
"W-well, you see sir, I'm the one that's going with Nancy."  
  
The Colonel's eyes popped out of his head like large, round gumballs with reddish veins etched all over the surface. "WHAT?!"  
  
"It was a big misunderstanding between Harry, Nancy, and I, and everybody got the wrong impression. I've no idea how Witch Weekly got wind of the thing, but before you know it, everyone in the world's beating down poor Harry's door over something that never even happened." George rattled off in record time.  
  
The man looked like he wasn't even breathing. Finally, after blinking rapidly a few hundred times, he turned to Harry and his eyes narrowed. "So you and Nancy were never."  
  
"Nuh-uh." Harry replied, shaking his head.  
  
"And this kid here's the."  
  
"Yessir." George confirmed, though a bit shakily.  
  
Mr. Freeston sighed deeply, then plopped himself down in a chair. "Explain yourself, boy." he ordered.  
  
George seemed taken aback, but began stammering reasons nonetheless. "Nancy and I are both in Gryffindor House, and we really first met when she got hurt - we hit it off right away - both of us share a love for the entrepreneur business. I hid our relationship at first because I was afraid of what people would think, me being six years older than her and all."  
  
"Some people might see that as a sign of cowardice." spat Nancy's father. The look of disgust on the man's face was enough to make Harry fall down, if he hadn't already been sitting. But George didn't bat an eye and seemed to get enraged.  
  
"Look here, Mr. Freeston," George began, taking a step towards him. "I love your daughter, and I know she's in love with me. I may not be Harry Potter, but dangit I'm still a person! I've lived through the Acideratorr Curse, having to get prosthetic legs, and resigning my position as beater on the house quidditch team. And I'm going to live through this too, whether you like it or not."  
  
The Colonel was dumbfounded. He was slouched down in his chair, running his hands over his chin stubble absentmindedly. "Beater, eh?" the man commented after awhile.  
  
"Best one Hogwarts has seen in fifty years, besides my twin brother Fred. And probably my other brother, Ron. England's International Team wanted me for their beater, right out of school and everything."  
  
This seemed to impress Mr. Freeston sufficiently, because he looked especially furious with himself. "I was a beater at Hogwarts myself, could've gone pro if I wasn't committed to the military. Tough position to play, beater. Takes grit, and strength." he conceded.  
  
"Sir, I may not be wealthy, or famous, or anything special at all, but I promise to you that I will treat your daughter with the utmost respect and love until the day I die." George swore, walking over to his father-in-law and taking a seat next to him.  
  
Mr. Freeston stared at the velvet box in his hand. "Promise, you say?"  
  
(^*^)  
  
It took a full half hour to explain the whole scenario to Nancy's mother. She kept shooting longing looks towards Harry and pointing at him, muttering incoherent words of confusion. "Shabadoo?" she questioned, pleading with her husband.  
  
"No Denise, GEORGE is our little Nancy's boyfriend." the Colonel would correct, moving her finger so it pointed at the redhead.  
  
She would then emit a loud, high-pitched squealing noise that probably shattered glass and the eardrums of small mammals, immediately followed by a long, contemplative silence. Then Mrs. Freeston would point at Harry yet again, and the whole exhausting process would repeat itself.  
  
When the group finally did manage to beat it into the woman's head, she was all aflutter about George and how 'perfectly adorable' his glasses were, and his face being 'that of a perfect gentleman.' In fact, she claimed that many things about him were 'perfect,' and stressed the trait a bit more than was necessary.  
  
At long last, at around noon, Colonel Freeston and his wife were ready to head out. "Have a nice term, pet, and Mummie will see you soon!" Mrs. Freeston cooed, embracing her daughter lightly.  
  
"You take care of her, soldier." Nancy's father commanded George, punching him firmly on the shoulder.  
  
"Yessir. And thank you." George answered, patting his breast pocket with a knowing wink. The Colonel had entrusted him with the heirloom engagement ring, which George had accepted with wide eyes and a grateful heart. The two actually looked as if they'd get along very well in the years to come, trading quidditch stories back and forth like old pals. Harry thought it was actually quite funny how George seemed more afraid of the bitty Denise Freeston, with her tiny frame and sharp tongue, than forty year army veteran Butch Freeston.  
  
Nancy couldn't be more pleased with her parents, though. She thought it was amazing that George was still in one piece and in the country. "Don't worry about my mum George dear, she'll warm up soon enough. I'm sure she had the whole bridge club captivated with stories of mine and Harry's son uttering his first words or something. Honestly, the woman still entertains the medieval idea of arranged marriages."  
  
"That breakfast wasn't half as bad as I was anticipating. Piece of cake." George declared triumphantly.  
  
"Piece of cake, eh Greg?" Harry taunted, recalling the frightened look on the redhead's face when the Colonel's bulky frame meandered through the door, and how he scuttled out the door as fast as he could when commanded to do so.  
  
The rest of that nice December Saturday would have been spent lazing about the common room, playing wizard's chess and exploding snap in front of the cozy fire, if it hadn't been for that pesky Angelina Johnson and her obsessive desire to win the House Cup. Never mind the fact that their next match wasn't for four months, or that it was below freezing outside as the sleet poured down by the cloudfull. No, instead she ushered the Gryffindor quidditch team onto the pitch from two till six, when they mercifully were allowed a warming dinner.  
  
"What the - was she thinking?" Ron griped. Fortunately for him, at the precise moment he swore, Katie Bell let out a screaming sneeze. She'd had an unstoppable run of those ever since practice let out.  
  
Alicia, usually her friend's number one supporter, even joined in on the complaining. "Angelina's trying to kill us the legal way. KILL us. She needs to be shipped off to Azkaban for misuse of authority."  
  
"The dementors can't come soon enough." Fred put in, attempting to eat a bite of vegetable soup with his blue, shaking hands.  
  
"Who elected HER as captain, anyways?" Hermione mocked knowingly. Sure enough, all faces of the team lowered as they conceded that they themselves had been the ones who proposed Angelina as the captain. Except for Ron, however, who hadn't been on the team at that time. But he wasn't taking any risks on pissing off the captain. He was only on the team because of her good grace, and wanted to keep it that way, no matter how much he agreed with his teammates.  
  
Harry, whether fatigue or boredom induced, had a severe case of the daydreams. He was gazing absentmindedly at the staff table thinking about nothing in particular when his eyes suddenly snapped into focus. He realized with a jolt that he was staring at Severus Snape's vacant seat. The Potions Master was still holed up in the infirmary, recuperating from his wound by the Daltheius Dagger. Harry wondered if he had regained consciousness yet, or if he ever would.  
  
Scanning the remainder of the staff table, Harry also saw that Professor Callahan was still out. Surely a bad case of drunkenness didn't constitute a week's stay in the hospital wing? Substitute teacher Professor Snott was still running the show during Defense Against the Dark Arts, and so far nothing had been accomplished. Hermione was positively throwing a fit about the lost time that could have been spent studying for the O.W.L's or N.E.W.T's.  
  
"You're more than welcome to teach the class yourself, 'Mione." Harry chided after she complained about this for the twelfth time, more to get her to shut up than anything else.  
  
"I just might." she replied huffily, tilting her head up high.  
  
The next day after breakfast, Harry made up his mind to visit the two missing teachers in the hospital wing. Though he wasn't particularly fond of Snape, the man was in there because he tried to save his life. It was the least Harry could do.  
  
Upon arriving at the white double-doors, Madame Pomfrey caught him and demanded to know what he was doing there. "Visiting the Professors." Harry stated innocently.  
  
"They're doing just fine, if you must know, and it will do no good for you to go barging in there upsetting them. It's not your place, now shoo." the old nurse replied sternly.  
  
"Shoo." Harry mumbled to himself, mocking the old lady, as he walked back down the corridor. It wouldn't hurt to just have a look.Fortunately for Harry and his mischievousness, out of the corner of his eye he saw Madame Pomfrey exit the hospital wing, bustling down the hallway to some undisclosed destination. Just a tiny peek, and he'd be gone.  
  
Running stealthily, Harry crept once more up to the double-doors and stole inside. The room was startlingly white, as it always is, and it took Harry a moment to get his eyes adjusted. There, nudged in the far corner of the room, were two cubicles sectioned off with white sheets. The first was Snape's, Harry recalled, so he approached that one first. Pulling the curtain back carefully, the sleeping form of Severus Snape was revealed inch by inch.  
  
He didn't look so menacing when he was unconscious, actually. No longer intimidating, just tired. Harry saw the crow's feet bunched around his forehead and eyes, having been forever etched into the skin by his usual scowl of pain and unpleasantness. There was a large bandage wrapped around his middle where the dagger had pierced the skin and secreted its poisonous insulin.  
  
There, in that mind somewhere, was the very information that would save Harry's life. Through those neurons and logical pathways coursed the facts about Voldemort's plan. If only the man could express them, could somehow articulate the extent of danger and risk involved. It was like the information was locked up into a safe, and the key lay within it, unattainable until something broke the surface. Aargh, it was infuriating!  
  
Well, standing here and staring at the poor guy won't solve anything, Harry thought to himself. As silently as he had come, he snuck back out through the heavy white curtains, drawing them closed behind him.  
  
He didn't notice the Potions Master crack an eye open and gaze at the boy's retreating form, smiling slightly.  
  
Now it was time to see how much the drunken form of Victoria Callahan had sobered up. Harry couldn't completely stifle the feeling of anger and blame that he felt when he thought of the Defense Professor. After all, it was HER fault Snape was lying in the cot mere feet from her, barely out of reach of death, hiding the antidote for the poison Voldemort hoped to kill Harry with.  
  
But then he remembered the life she must have gone through. The scorn and ridicule the young woman endured when she pointed the finger at Reginald and Courtney Crinkle, and they came up innocent. And now, in trying to protect Harry, she had nearly killed the man who was also trying to protect Harry. She probably wasn't too pleased with herself. It was no wonder that she'd turned to the kind of relief only a bottle of Ogden's old Firewhisky could offer.  
  
Harry was deep in thought when he reached out to pull the curtain aside to Professor Callahan's cubicle. So deep in thought, Harry was, that he completely neglected to notice that the woman was awake and walking around. Not only was she walking around, however, but she was walking around IN THE NUDE.  
  
"GOOD LORD!!!" she shrieked, quite within her rights, and pulled the neighboring curtain up around her. Unfortunately, this meant that her naked backside was exposed to the sleeping Severus next to her. Upon realizing this seconds later, Professor Callahan shrieked yet again and put the curtain back in its place, grabbing the sheets from her bed and wrapping those around her instead.  
  
Harry could just stand there and gape, having just seen his first naked woman.  
  
"MR. POTTER!!" A voice from behind Harry jerked him awake. He ripped his eyes from the woman to see Madame Pomfrey standing just inside the doorway, hands planted firmly on her hips, chin jiggling with rage.  
  
Harry whipped his head back once more to the startled patient, who wrapped the bedsheet more closely around her. His first instinct being to run, that is exactly what he did. Ducking under the nurse's outstretched arms, Harry darted out the door and down the hall, and he didn't stop running until he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.  
  
"Password?" she inquired cheerily.  
  
"Orion's Belt." Harry stated, the painting swinging open. He darted into the common room and twisted his head from side to side, searching for Ron and Hermione.  
  
Finally he spotted them near the fire, Hermione losing marvelously to Ron in a game of wizards chess.  
  
"Why so flustered, Harry?" Ron inquired, looking up to see his friend panting hard, nursing the stitch in his side.  
  
"Come - here, you've - GASP - got to hear - what I just - WHEEZE - saw." Harry expressed, motioning the two over into a corner. Shrugging, they stood up and followed.  
  
"What's up?" Hermione asked, crossing his arms in front of him in a 'this- better-be-good-you're-breaking-my-train-of-thought' sort of manner.  
  
After gulping down a few more mouthfuls of air, Harry took his hands off his knees, stood up, and stared at his friends importantly for a few moments before continuing. "I just saw Victoria Callahan naked." he declared impressively.  
  
"Oh good grief!" Hermione exclaimed with agitation, rolling her eyes and turning her back to Harry.  
  
However, Ron was positively captivated. "What did it look like?" he breathed reverently.  
  
Hermione muttered something that sounded like 'boys' under her breath and took a few retreating steps away. Not enough to be out of hearing shot, mind you, because she still wanted to hear Harry explain himself.  
  
"I went to the hospital wing to check on her and Snape, you know, to see how they were doing." Harry began.  
  
"With, I'm sure, only the most wholesome intentions at heart." Hermione spat in a mocking tone. Ron kicked her, and focused his attention back on Harry.  
  
"Anyways. so I had just finished checking up on Snape -"  
  
"How's he doing, by the way?" Hermione cut in once again. Ron gritted his teeth and turned slowly to her, giving her a look that asked if she could be MORE annoying.  
  
"Sleeping and whatnot. ANYWAYS," Harry accented in a way to tell Hermione that she'd better not butt in again. "I was going to pop my head in Professor Callahan's cubicle, and I guess I caught her undressing or something. She leapt up to cover herself, but not before I caught sight of something you'd be interested in."  
  
"What, what??" Ron asked quickly, clearly on the edge of his seat.  
  
"T&A, Ron, nothing your brother's magazines haven't shown you, I'm sure." Hermione explained, earning a slap-in-the-face glare from Harry.  
  
"NO, Hermione, that is NOT what I was going to say." Harry argued, looking insulted.  
  
"What were you going to say?" prompted Ron, as if nothing could ever be better than the previously mentioned T&A.  
  
"I was SAYING," Harry began, stretching it out for effect. Right before he thought Ron might snap from all the tension, and Hermione from all the irritancy, he continued. "I saw, on the underside of Victoria Callahan's wrist, a tattoo of the Dark Mark."  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Ooooh, likey likey?? I'm back on the original track I set this train on to begin with. George and Nancy live happily ever after, etc, etc, but the show must go on. Hoping this one will break the big six-oh in reviews, baby. Eeee, can't wait for responses! Review, review, review!!  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com (I've got a website now, check my profile. Pweese??) 


	18. Love Potion No 9

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Eighteen  
  
A/N: Yah-rah, this story's back onto its original track. Thanks to my faithful reviewers:  
  
DarkMoonDragon: Wow, you've got both my Harry Potter stories read and reviewed! YOU'RE MY HERO. and still crazier than a soup sandwich, lol.  
  
Huntress: Thanks for the support, girl. You're right, off a cliff with the losers who don't like where my story's headed! GRRR... *giggles sweetly* Well, I tried to be mean, give me credit for that. ;)  
  
Totally_2bular_girl: Hey, if you like Hermione/Ron stories, read my other one, Harry Potter and the Locket of Trinity. It's kinda turning that way. but keep on reading this one, despite it's H/H-ish content. Meh, deal with it.  
  
DISCLAIMER: If I own Harry Potter, may lightning strike me at this very moment! *suddenly the skies clear and not a rain cloud is present* Humph. 'Nuff said.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"The Dark Mark? On Victoria Callahan's wrist? Are you sure, Harry?" Hermione asked incredulously.  
  
Harry nodded his head emphatically. "I know it was, Hermione. It's the same thing I saw on Snape's arm, the exact same. I'm not stupid."  
  
"Nobody's saying you're stupid Harry, it's just, well. calling somebody a Death Eater is a serious accusation. Loads of innocent people died just fifteen years ago because of the same thing you're doing now. Maybe it was a different tattoo, maybe an ink mark." Ron defended.  
  
"Oh great, so now you're implying I'm blind as well as stupid," Harry said, enraged they thought he was lying. "Listen to me, I know what I saw! She had the skull with a snake coming out of it, just like we saw at the Quidditch World Cup!"  
  
Hermione heaved a huge sigh. "Alright, alright, we believe you. But she was an auror, her job was catching Dark Wizards, not joining them."  
  
"Well, then that means she was a spy for one side. the question is, which one?" Ron asked.  
  
"Maybe she pulled a Snape. You know, was a Death Eater in the beginning, then switched sides." Hermoine proposed.  
  
"Or maybe she pulled a Wormtail and pretended to be loyal to the Light Side, when really she served Voldemort." Harry suggested, making both his friends shiver with the mention of the Dark Lord's name, but he didn't care anymore. Let them be scared of a name, he'd actually seen the real thing.  
  
"You don't really think she's here to hurt you, Harry, though, d'you?" Ron feared.  
  
"Of course not. The Dark Lord wouldn't place an informant in the school. That would be like committing suicide." stated Hermione confidently.  
  
Harry drew a shuddering, uncertain breath. The two looked at him quizzically, and he shook his head. "What?" prompted Ron.  
  
"Well." Harry began, wondering whether to tell them what he knew, or rather what he didn't know, about Snape's information. "Look, you remember the night when I had that fake detention thing?" Harry began.  
  
"Yeah." Hermione agreed, and Ron nodded. That had also been the night of George's curse, and in all the rush over his state, they'd pretty much forgotten about Harry's peril.  
  
"Well, Snape was taking me aside to tell me something. Turns out Voldemort," - shudders all around - "has a new plan to get me. Snape found out about it and was going to tell me in secret. when Professor Callahan barged in and ran him through with a poisonous dagger." Harry explained. He could tell that this news was partially new and old to the duo.  
  
"So." Hermione pressed, rolling her hands in a 'keep-it-going' manner.  
  
"So he never got the chance to tell me. Voldemort," - shudder, shudder - "is out there planning my abuduction or murder or whatever, and Snape's laid up in the infirmiary." Harry finished.  
  
"What do you think he was going to tell you?" Ron breathed.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Dunno. My best guess is that someone at this school is not to be trusted, or else he wouldn't've dragged me all the way to Argus Filch's old storage shed to do it."  
  
"D - d'you think Professor Callahan herself is after you?" Hermione guessed.  
  
Harry's first reaction was a definite 'no,' but then he considered it. Right when Snape was going to spill the beans, WHAM, she attempts to kill him. She was plenty disgruntled about the whole Crinkle issue, and that Dark Mark didn't exactly proclaim innocence either.  
  
"Maybe," Harry answered, staring off into space. "Maybe." Was that really possible? That would explain why she was so quick to come to Snape's defense. she'd faced the same prejudices as he had.  
  
"Well, that's only one possibility," Ron commented. "Harry? HARRY!" he shouted, grabbing Harry's wrist in order to jerk his attention back to earth.  
  
"OUCH!" Harry yelled, wrenching his arm from his grasp and cradling it.  
  
"What, what's wrong with your wrist?" asked Ron worriedly.  
  
"N-nothing." Harry lied. It was the wrist he'd sprained, or maybe even broken, during his little battle with Draco Malfoy. He'd completely forgotten about it, and had left the splint off of it when it had interfered with quidditch practice.  
  
Then it hit him. Draco Malfoy. What if he was the one in the school not to be trusted? Snape could have heard about it from Lucius, even, at a Death Eater meeting. Could the Slytherin have tried to murder Harry upon command? And then the remark towards the end that made the boy back off, "I've turned into him." Was he horrified at being like the Potions Master? Harry knew he'd be disgusted himself if that ever happened.  
  
After a long silence, Ron spoke. "So we're just waiting here for something to happen, while You-Know-Who's out there somewhere plotting revenge. I don't like the sound of that. Who knows how long Snape'll be out?"  
  
"I know. And in between now and then, The Dark Lord could have already carted you off to his lair." Hermione added.  
  
"There must be something, somewhere, that can tell us what it is." Harry wondered aloud.  
  
"Could there be anything in his office, d'you think?" Ron inquired.  
  
"Like what?" Harry prompted.  
  
Ron shrugged. "Dunno, like photographs or documents. Maybe he even wrote a full explanation just in case something like this happened, he'd have to be on his toes what with being a spy and all."  
  
"Hey yeah," Harry agreed. "But even if they do exist, how are we going to get to them? Snape keeps his office shut up tighter than Azkaban, and even if we did manage to get in, one of the teacher is bound to catch us."  
  
Hermione's eyes twinkled with mischief. "We've got an invisibility cloak."  
  
"Are you proposing we break into a teacher's office, ruffle through their private affairs, and steal some top-secret documents?" Ron asked.  
  
Hermione looked hurt. "You say it like it's a bad plan."  
  
"Nope, not at all. Just getting everything straight," Ron answered simply. "So, when're we gonna break out and do this thing?"  
  
"Wait, hold the phone for just one second here," Harry protested. He saw Ron mouth the word 'phone' in bewilderment before continuing. "Why don't we just go to Dumbledore and ask him?"  
  
"Because the less people we endanger, the better, remember?" Hermione stated.  
  
"And if it turns out your life really is threatened, he's likely to send you off home to live with the muggles forever! You don't want that, right?" Ron pointed out.  
  
"No, I guess not." Harry conceded, shuddering to think what it would be like living at the Dursley's without the prospect of Hogwarts to keep him going.  
  
"Alright, is it settled then? As soon as we can, we're going to sneak into Snape's office and check through a few things to see if anywhere it mentions You-Know-Who's plan to attack him?" Hermione clarified.  
  
"Check." Ron responded immediately.  
  
Harry sighed heavily. "Oh, fine then. But if I get expelled for this, I'm taking you guys down with me."  
  
(^*^)  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of that week drafting up plans to break into the Potions Masters private quarters. "We'll have to be careful now, he may have a wizard's lock on his door. Then we can't use the Alohomora spell to get in." Hermione warned, looking up stronger unlocking spells and jotting them down.  
  
"What if it's booby trapped?" Ron proposed.  
  
"Don't be silly." reprimanded Hermione quickly before she buried her face back in the book.  
  
Ron glared at her. "No really, what if Snape's got dark hexes and curses guarding the really good stuff? Then how're we going to explain to Madame Pomfrey about missing limbs or protuberances?"  
  
Hermione thought for a second. "Transfiguration accident." she replied in a very definite way, and neither Harry nor Ron could tell if she had been serious or not.  
  
They exchanged looks. "My, Hermione certainly goes about breaking the rules correctly, doesn't she?" Ron commented, raising his eyebrows.  
  
And indeed she did take this whole thing very seriously. Hermione spent the whole class period highlighting things in her textbooks that might come in handy, like dictating quill charms that made your quill jot down any information you told it to, or decoders and invisible ink shower- uppers and the sort. Harry and Ron realized this must be important to her; it wasn't everyday that Hermione would mark in a SCHOOL's book.  
  
The upcoming Friday, the teachers were having a meeting in the staff room in order to discuss what to do about the Christmas banquet. Hermione performed a series of complicated math equations, finally concluding that the meeting would last thirty seven minutes and forty-three seconds, give or take a second or two.  
  
"That hardly gives us any time at all, what with picking the lock and rummaging through the riff-raff before we get to the good stuff." Hermione complained.  
  
Ron shivered. "I just hope somebody doesn't walk in on us, we're liable to end up being the ones to test Filch's old manacles."  
  
Hermione immediately took on a defensive posture, looking hurt that Ron hinted that her plan might not be 100% foolproof. "I am positive, of course, that Hermione has made allowances for every scenario, and she is a fabulous, fabulous witch indeed." added Ron rapidly, undoing the transgression he'd caused.  
  
Friday morning came, and during breakfast Hermione kept shoving spells and defensive curses down Harry's and Ron's throats along with their porridge. Finally Ron, who had dropped his third piece of toast when Hermione whipped around, stood up to her. "Honestly 'Mione, we're prepared for everything but the document itself! Now shut your trap and eat some bacon, I know for a fact you're famished."  
  
Hermione sat there for a long time gaping at the redhead, and Harry got out his wand to avert a wizard's duel. But to both boys' surprise, Hermione did shut up about curses and such, and replaced it by asking Parvati to pass her the bacon.  
  
Double Potions was their first class that morning, and the day that Professor Dorkin promised to teach them the Love Potion. Harry noticed that the girls weren't so keen on brewing it now that he wasn't such a studmuffin, but the did go along with it with more cheer than was usual for the damp dungeon.  
  
"Now combine the crushed Seacrest petals with the tear of dryad, that's it." Professor Dorkin coaxed as they tried to manage the rather difficult potion. More than once, Harry nearly mixed in the wrong ingredient at the wrong time, turning his potion into either a lethal poison or cake icing.  
  
At the end of class, the substitute Potions Master asked for volunteers to test the solution. Parvati and Lavender promptly got in a scuffle over who was to be the girl specimen, and in the end Professor Dorkin resorted to the 'eenie-meenie-miney-mo' technique. Parvati won, and she marched up to the front of the room triumphantly.  
  
"Now, how about a guy, please?" the teacher instructed. The room stayed silent. "Aw, shy are we? C'mon, there's extra credit in it for the lucky boy." You could have heard a germ fart, it was so quiet.  
  
"Fine then, you give me no choice," stated Professor Dorkin, and after once again utilizing the 'eenie-meenie-miney-mo' tactic, poor Ron Weasley was the unfortunate victim. "Come right on up young man, Miss Patil won't bite." the man invited Ron. Parvati attempted a harmless smile, showing fierce-looking incisors that would certainly do some damage if she did end up biting.  
  
"Now just place one of your hairs in a vial here, that's it, tug hard now." instructed Professor Dorkin, and Ron put one of his flaming red hairs into a crystal saucer holding some of his potion. Parvati did the same.  
  
"Cheers!" Parvati chirped, downing her entire glassful in one fell swoop. Ron seemed somewhat more reluctant, eyeing the auburn hair floating around in his with suspicion. Upon an ultimatum by the teacher, Ron finally took a tiny sip. Suddenly, some of the reluctance erased from his face, and he drank the rest of it.  
  
Parvati was the first to react. She put her hand to her head, murmuring something about a fever, and then turned towards her redhaired partner. Her eyes lit up, and her breath caught in her throat.  
  
Ron was still undergoing the process of the potion; his eyes were clamped shut and he was swaying slightly. After a second though, he blinked and took a wavering step forwards. Upon spying Parvati, he immediately rushed forward and grabbed her hand.  
  
"Hey now, none of that." Professor Dorkin urged. Grudgingly, Parvati and Ron released their grasp.  
  
Suddenly, Hermione raised her hand. The substitute nodded. "Ron, I was wondering if you could describe to us what you're feeling right now?" she asked.  
  
Ron thought hard for a second, his freckles scrunching together nervously. "Well. it's hard to say. Blissful, heavenly. loved. All I know is that I need to spend every waking moment with this lovely creature here called Parvati Patil."  
  
The class, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, burst into uproarious laughter.  
  
Ron and Parvati looked taken aback, and she drew closer to his chest and hugged him much like a needy child does to their mother. Harry thought he might wet himself. Ron was stroking her hair and whispering what looked suspiciously like sweet nothings into her ear.  
  
"Break it up, break it up!" said the substitute Professor, trying to pry the two lovebirds apart. He, however, was failing miserably.  
  
"Professor, I assume an antidote is in order." Harry suggested, knowing that it was the only fair thing to do for his friend.  
  
Professor Dorkin nodded. "Yes, yes, of course." he answered worriedly, shaking his head ashamedly at the two embracing.  
  
After a quick trip into a back room which Harry took note of for later use, the teacher emerged with a cauldron filled with thick black goop. "Drink up now, you two."  
  
Ron shrugged and took a cupful, sipping it nonchalantly, but Parvati adamantly refused. "Why should I?" she whined, true to Parvati form.  
  
"It'll make you feel better, go on, just a taste should do the trick." urged Professor Dorkin.  
  
"But I'm not sick, I feel fine." Parvati continued to whine.  
  
By this time, Ron had recovered from the Love Potion and was showing signs of coming around. The glazed look of sugary lovey-doveyness had been removed, and now he was looking at the girl in his arms with growing confusion and hatred.  
  
Harry and Hermione had to hold on to each other for support.  
  
After some more bewildered assessments, Ron began trying to pry Parvati from his body. But she just clutched him even tighter, still negotiating with Professor Dorkin. Face twisting in agony, Ron tried to loosen her grip but she simply stamped on his foot and ordered him to keep still.  
  
Taking on the posture of a beaten dog, Ron dropped his arms hopelessly to his sides and gazed at the floor.  
  
This seemed too much for the Slytherin side of the room, which began reciting wedding vows and possible names for their children. "Hey Weasley, looks like you've got some money in your future as Patil's professional Gigolo." Malfoy teased, and that gained Parvati's attention from arguing with the teacher.  
  
"Can it Malfoy, you're just jealous that we've found true love." spat the girl, hugging Ron closer. At this, Slytherin went nuts, and Ron seemed to also.  
  
Ron tried once again to escape from her grasp. "Wha - wha - like hell we're in love!" he argued, but Parvati just went on like he wasn't there.  
  
Professor Dorkin threw his arms into the air with exasperation. "This is getting a little out of hand, can I get some help up here?" he pleaded, and at once Hermione and Harry leapt up to aide their friend.  
  
Hermione assumed a sweet grandmotherly voice, and first tried coaxing Parvati. "Let go of Ron dear, it's all right, let him go. LET HIM GO!!" she roared as the girl began strangling Ron in an attempt to give him a hug.  
  
Harry, seeing no other way to go about this, performed a separating spell, which sprang the two sweethearts apart. Or rather, one sweetheart and one potentially murderous time bomb. In one swift motion, Professor Dorkin opened Parvati's mouth and poured the antidote down her throat, which was very hard considering she was screaming bloody murder. After a few minutes the thrashing stopped and the girl stood quite still, staring at Ron in a puzzled way.  
  
"Hmm." she chirped, and sauntered back to her table and sat down.  
  
(^*^)  
  
"I think I've got broken ribs, here, look at these bruises!" Ron griped, holding his shirt up to Harry and Hermione as they exited the Potions classroom.  
  
"That girl had a death grip on you, I'm surprised your lungs didn't collapse." Harry teased.  
  
"I wouldn't be so sure they didn't." said Ron, nursing his side.  
  
"Ron. RON!" somebody shouted down the corridor, and none other than Ron's previous lover Parvati came running up to them. "I - I just wanted you to know that I only said most of those things because of the potion, not. well, I didn't mean a word of it."  
  
"Praise the Lord." Ron answered with a sigh.  
  
"A - and I'm sorry, if you got a little hurt, you know. I tugged on you pretty hard." Parvati apologized.  
  
"Yeah you did," stated Ron. Parvati assumed a hurt expression, so he quickly added, "But all is forgiven."  
  
The girl smiled. "Okay. Well, thanks! It's been fun!" she piped, and with that she traipsed down the corridor where Lavender was waiting amidst a fit of giggles.  
  
But the three weren't alone for long. Not seconds after Parvati took leave of them, Malfoy and his band of followers took her place. "Well, well. heartbroken that you haven't got any love as well as any money?" Malfoy hissed.  
  
Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of Ron's robes as a warning; the redhead was already at the breaking point. "Malfoy, you are truly remarkable," Ron cooed in a flattering voice. His friends traded apprehensive looks behind his back.  
  
Malfoy chuckled. "Nice of you to notice."  
  
"I mean, you're the only person I know with loads of money that still manages to be worthless." Ron spat, his tone transforming from flattery to a verbal assault in the blink of an eye.  
  
The Slytherin's seemed stunned. They made no reply, just flipped their heads haughtily and walked away.  
  
"I coulda pounded him. I coulda really given that Malfoy something to sneer about. like the lack of his nose." Ron seethed.  
  
Hermione stroked his shoulder, which had the calming affect that a cowboy often has on a rabid stallion. "Can't let you get expelled right now, can we? We need your help in raiding Snape's office," she cooed. Ron nodded. "Kill 'em in Saturday, but for today, manage to keep yourself out of trouble, ya hear?"  
  
Ron smiled. "Yeah, I hear. Hmm. I can see it now, Date of Death: Saturday, December 14. Really rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Well, hope that was a fun chapter. Ladeedaadeedaaa.. well, next week I promise you complete, unedited snooping through Severus Snape's private belongings. a think I've dreamt about doing to some of my own teachers, lemme tell you. Well, like a fat kid (AKA your mom) playing dodgeball, I'm OUT!!!  
  
lol.  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com (Escribe tu carta, por favor?) 


	19. Snooping

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Nineteen  
  
A/N: Hey, I changed my title from "Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed" to "Harry Potter and the Rise of Lord Voldemort" because the original title didn't make any sense. But I feel like "The Rise of Lord Voldemort" is NOT a very original or catchy title, so pleeeeeeaaaase, if you have any good title ideas for me, jus leave them in a review. Thanks bundles!!  
  
Oops, and yah, from now on, this means thoughts.  
  
*authoress is having a kickin' dream about owning Harry Potter and being rich and famous and British. Suddenly, a bunch of lawyers break into her house, wake her up with an oversized ACME alarm clock, tip their hats, and leave.* Jeez, I can't even DREAM about owning Harry Potter!!!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione felt like that evening couldn't come sooner. Lunch and dinner were filled with cooing imitations of Ron and Parvati's very brief love affair, and Professor Binns' droning about Hector the Horrid in History of Magic was largely accompanied by taunting sniggers from the students. So, needless to say, Ron was not a very happy camper when the three friends were sitting nonchalantly in the common room, waiting for it to clear out. The fuming redhead even hollered at a group of third-years who seemed to be enjoying lolling around the common room.  
  
"HONESTLY, NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR HAMSTER, GIRL!!! GET UP TO BED ALREADY!!" Ron roared.  
  
"B-but it's only seven-thirty." the girl protested in a frightened voice.  
  
"GO!!!" bellowed Ron, making the shy girl stuff her new pet inside its cage with a squeak, and scamper out the portrait hole.  
  
Harry could tell that Hermione was on the brink of reprimanding their friend, but he jarred her in the ribs with his elbow to stop her; now was not the time.  
  
"So. erm, you about ready? The staff meeting starts in a couple of minutes." Hermione remarked casually instead.  
  
"Sure!" Ron replied brightly, doing an about face from his previous rage.  
  
Together they hiked down the stairs, and were milling around uncomfortably in the entrance hall when the bell-like jingling sounded, signaling the commencement of the staff meeting. Their covert operation had begun.  
  
Stealthily, Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered under Harry's invisibility cloak and stole down the damp staircase towards the dungeon, praying to God that they didn't run into any Slytherins. But, they didn't, and in no time at all they were standing in front of Professor Snape's office. The last time Harry and Ron were here, they'd been in serious trouble. This factor didn't help the feeling of foreboding in their stomachs.  
  
"All right, well. I guess this is the part when we go inside." Hermione stated, and bravely reached out and tried the door handle. It was unlocked.  
  
Harry thought he knew exactly how Egyptologists felt as they entered a possibly cursed tomb as the group walked into the Potions Master's office. It was sparsely decorated, cold and organized with a soft greenish glow coming from the specimens in jars placed around the room. The smell alone made Harry's stomach lurch.  
  
"Let's begin at the desk." suggested Hermione, taking charge as always. She threw off the cloak, her materializing out of thin air as she did so. Harry and Ron followed suit, walking reverently over to the formidable desk and staring at it. Sighing deeply, Harry was the first one to touch anything. He picked up a paperweight that was weighing down a bunch of graded papers. Released from what bound them, they fluttered in a breeze from some indeterminable source.  
  
The fear was broken now, and the three wandered around the office at will, rummaging through anything of interest. Ron took over the large file cabinet in a corner, Harry investigated the rest of the desk, and Hermione took over the cabinets lining one wall.  
  
The first thing that caught Harry's attention was a large wizard's photograph in an ornate frame sitting in a dominant position on Snape's desk. Picking it up to examine it further, Harry noticed that it was of a much younger Snape - twenty, even twenty-five years ago perhaps. His nose looked as if it had only been broken three times then, rather than the current twelve. Snape was surrounded by other cloaked figures - women, men, and some that Harry couldn't quite discern their gender. But the most startling thing about the picture was that all the people in it had one of their sleeves rolled up and were displaying a very infamous tattoo - the Dark Mark.  
  
"Hey, you guys," Harry whispered to his other partners in crime. "I think this is something you should take a look at." Ron and Hermione quickly rushed over.  
  
"What, what is it?" Hermione asked apprehensively. Harry shoved the photo at his friends, a sick feeling building inside him. Was Severus Snape, the one he had defended and thought was saving his life, still a Death Eater? And if not, then why did he have that picture fondly put on display on his desk?  
  
"These people. they're. they're." Ron mumbled.  
  
"Servants of Voldemort." Harry finished. His friends shuddered at the mention of The Name.  
  
"Why?" whispered Hermione.  
  
"D'you think it's a family portrait or something?" Ron guessed, disbelieving.  
  
Harry snorted. "Maybe if Snape's got ten siblings his same age. but look, they're all different looking. This girl here's got curly brown hair, and the guy next to her's blonde."  
  
"Oh no," Hermione groaned, pointing to the blonde Harry just acknowledged. "Look at that face. it's Lucius Malfoy."  
  
And indeed it was. In fact, with the picture being taken when the youngsters in the group looked about seventeen, Lucius closely resembled his son, Draco. That bleached hair, that determined jawline - but Lucius's face somehow looked colder than Draco's, if that was possible. His eyes were meaner, more unpredictable. next to him, his son looked downright buoyant.  
  
Glancing around for more familiar faces in the picture, a portly figure caught Harry's eye. The small, watery eyes and weak, mouselike nose. it was Peter Pettigrew. Harry moaned.  
  
"What, what is it?" Hermione asked, worried.  
  
Harry couldn't speak, he just pointed a shaking finger at the portly figure. Judging by Hermione's sharp intake of breath, she saw it too. "Wormtail." she stated, and Ron's face now copied that of his friends.  
  
Harry was shaking his head. "I - I can't believe it. He was a Death Eater then. this can't be more than a year after graduation, when he was supposedly my dad's best friend. And he was a Death Eater."  
  
Ron set a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, and Hermione just stared at him, her mouth gaping like that of a fish, not knowing what to say. In the end, she just stood there, letting the silence console Harry.  
  
Suddenly, Harry's hands faltered and the picture fell. With a deafening crack, it shattered into a million pieces, and the faces in the photograph looked even surlier than before. "Harry!" Hermione scolded in spite of herself, and repaired the glass with a flick of her wand, setting it back in its place on Snape's desk.  
  
"C'mon. we haven't got much time." Ron prodded, and the three went back to work. Harry rifled through his things with a vengeance, not caring if a few papers were torn or a few ink bottles upset in the process. Angry thoughts had run away with his brain. Snape was still a Death Eater.  
  
You don't know that. the saintly angel reminded him as it popped up on his shoulder.  
  
Suddenly, the saintly angel was shot with a cannon from Harry's other shoulder. Snape's a git, the maniacal demon retorted. He's always hated you, Harry, and he hated your father too. Said so himself.  
  
Harry was so tempted to agree with the little demonic thing, because he was highly inclined to hate Snape right now. But his now quite ruffled angel got in one more argument before he was wrestled to the ground and silenced by his rival. Remember what Callahan said? DON'T JUDGE!!  
  
Hell, Callahan's a Death Eater too. the demon added, before running the saint off with his pitchfork.  
  
My subconscious is even weirder than I am. Harry thought, getting back to his snooping duties.  
  
It was ten minutes later that Hermione's wand went off. She had set it on a timer to buzz when time was almost up, to give them sufficient time to scurry away to an inconspicuous spot and act that they weren't doing anything wrong. "Oh no!" she yelped in alarm.  
  
"Guess we didn't come up with anything, eh?" Ron questioned.  
  
"No, ugh, I'm so close to something, I can feel it! If only I had a few more minutes." Hermione persisted.  
  
"Suit yourself Hermione, but if we get busted, you put us under the Imperious Curse and forced us to do this." Ron replied.  
  
Hermione just kept ruffling through things a mile a minute, breathing heavily and every once and a while letting out a squeal of frustration. Finally, after a very anxious two minutes, Hermione must've come upon what she had been looking for. "A-ha!" she shrieked, tapping it with her wand and copying it instantly.  
  
"C'mon, I've got it, let's get out of here before we're expelled!" Hermione urged, grabbing both boys by the arm and running out the door.  
  
"What, what is it?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
"Shh, not right now!" shushed Hermione, checking around the corner using a "Coast Clear" spell. The hall must've been vacant, because she led them running pell-mell down it, until they were standing, chests heaving, in front of the dungeon stairs.  
  
"I'll go up first and see if anyone's there. It's much less conspicuous if I'm alone." Ron volunteered.  
  
"Don't get caught!" Hermione hissed, giving his robes a tug of warning before releasing them.  
  
"Eh, I can always say I'm disoriented from the Love Potion or something." Ron answered with a wink before disappearing around the bend. A couple of seconds of pregnant silence went by before the redhead returned.  
  
"Coast is clear, not a teacher in sight." he assured, and the three crowded once more under the invisibility cloak and exited the dungeons at last.  
  
Harry hurried the two of them off to Gryffindor tower, tugging the cloak as some sort of leash to get them to walk faster. But Hermione was worried that they were making too much noise, and Ron was just plain lazy as always, so Harry had to settle for walking slowly and cautiously, mind whirring impatiently.  
  
What was it that Hermione had found, anyways? A signed confession saying that Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater? A birth certificate showing his phony citizenship? A dirty magazine? Harry could only imagine.  
  
After a long and excruciating walk up the stairs and slinking by the Fat Lady, who was snoozing softly so she didn't notice that the voice uttering the password didn't have a body, they were in the common room at last. Harry threw the cloak off instantly and begged Hermione to tell him what she had discovered. "C'mon 'Mione, I've waited like a good little boy, tell us what it is!" he whined.  
  
But, of course, Hermione just got that incredibly patient and all- knowing demeanor that she displayed when she was withholding important information. "Let's sit closer to the fire, those dungeons are certainly cold, aren't they?" she asked casually, strolling over to the chairs.  
  
Harry rushed over and sat in a rocking chair, watching while Hermione fluffed her cushions with leisure. Ron looked amused by the whole thing, and let out an immense yawn before lying facedown on the floor. It was, after all, past eight o'clock on a Friday.  
  
"Well," Hermione began, smoothing her robes. Even Harry's saintly angel was becoming agitated. "I was searching through Snape's file cabinet, as you know -"  
  
"Yes yes, we know that, now please go on!" burst Harry.  
  
Hermione sighed in a wounded way before continuing. "Anyways, so I was sifting through his papers when I spied a system. Most of his papers seemed just old and graded, but none seemed like assignments, and they all had a tiny squiggle in the corner of the page. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the squiggle was actually a snake."  
  
After a long pause, Ron snorted. "So?" he asked.  
  
"So, the snake is one of You-Know-Who's symbols!" Hermione answered, shaking her head.  
  
"It's also a very well-known reptile, and the Slytherin mascot." Ron argued.  
  
Hermione groaned. "But it was the snake that's used in my Ancient Runes class to symbolize evil or dark magic. It's very old, not even the most advanced wizard knows of it." Harry and Ron weren't about to ask how Hermione learned of it, if it was so hard to come by.  
  
"Alright, so they all had a snake on 'em. Big whoop." Harry pushed.  
  
Hermione shook her head violently. "No, but you see, to perform a Coding Deceit spell, all the documents you're disguising have to have a certain symbol in common!"  
  
"So the diddly-ma-joodle means it was coded?" inquired Ron.  
  
"Uh-huh. So anyways, I cast the countercharm and took a stab at a few test passwords before I came upon the right one." Hermione continued.  
  
Harry leaned forward on his knees; this was getting interesting. "What was it?"  
  
"Erm, well. it's quite obvious, really." said Hermione, looking down at her hands.  
  
"What? Slytherin? Severus? Stupid greasy git, what?" Ron guessed.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "No, no. it's silly actually, but I can't bring myself to say the name."  
  
"Oh, Voldemort." Harry stated. Both Ron and Hermione jumped.  
  
"Jeez, give me a little warning before you go and do that again." pleaded Ron, clutching his chest like the name of the Dark Lord alone had given him a coronary.  
  
"Sorry." Harry apologized.  
  
"Well, yeah, that was the password," Hermione confirmed. "After I said it -"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, so you can say it to a piece of paper, but you can't say it to us?"  
  
"Naturally." Ron replied.  
  
Hermione went on like the boys hadn't been talking. "After I said it, the content of the papers totally changed. They were no longer simple reports on Sleeping Draughts or Hair Growth Potions, but secret documents that would be devastating if they fell into the wrong hands."  
  
"Secret plans about Hogwarts, or the Ministry?" Harry gasped.  
  
"No no no, I mean devastating if they fell into our hands." Hermione corrected.  
  
The boy's eyes grew large, then dropped all of a sudden with confusion. "Wait, they were secret plans about Death Eaters?" Ron asked.  
  
Hermione nodded with satisfaction. "Yup, and that's not it."  
  
"What - you don't mean Vol.. You-Know-Who?" asked Harry, sparing Ron the apparently painful name.  
  
"The one and only. Snape had detailed documents about curses and hideouts, even spells You-Know-Who used, including the one that brought him back to life. The one you were a part of, Harry." Hermione explained.  
  
Harry gaped at her. "Wha-what did it say?"  
  
"I've got it right here." Hermione replied, handing the boys the much coveted paper. It was old and ragged, and the writing was messy and only brief notes were given.  
  
**  
  
Revestation Potion  
  
OLD MAGIC. Bone of father, flesh of servant, blood of enemy. Revives Death Child full strength.  
  
Year long incubation, vulnerable IN THAT PERIOD.  
  
After incubation, unstoppable.  
  
**  
  
Harry held the parchment delicately, even though it was an indestructible copy. Since the paper was only written in fragmented quips, it took Harry a while to process it all.  
  
He remembered those ingredients only too clearly. for a full minute, he let himself relive it all over again.  
  
That voice ordering "kill the spare," and Cedric's body falling so limply to the ground.  
  
What looked like an infant wrapped lovingly inside Pettigrew's robes. But no mere baby had such eyes, such evil possessed in it's being. Harry guessed that's what the words 'Death Child' written on the parchment meant.  
  
Flesh of servant. Wormtail cutting off his own hand. His cries of pain, enticing Harry to pity him even though he was the one who murdered his parents.  
  
Blood of enemy. Harry himself contributing to the uprising of the darkest wizard known to mankind. Oh, that was the worst part. To know that his own blood, his mere existence, had now guaranteed the demise of thousands of strangers around the world.  
  
STOP!! Harry ordered himself, locking the skeletons back in the closet of his mind to haunt him another day. Right now there were more pressing matters.  
  
What did it mean, 'year long incubation?' And those highlighted words, 'vulnerable IN THAT PERIOD.' Snape obviously thought that was a very pertinent part of the potion. But what was Harry going to do with it?  
  
Did it mean that Voldemort was weak for a full year after the potion took affect, that he could be destroyed only in that 'incubation period,' as Snape had put it? What was all this time being wasted then, all these months that the Dark Lord could have been hunted down and stopped, preventing so much lost innocence?  
  
And the last part of the document. 'after incubation, unstoppable.' No, oh no. that meant that Voldemort was indomitable after one year, after this incubation period of being as conquerable as a child.  
  
"We've got some work to do." Harry murmured to Ron and Hermione.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Ah, and the snooping chappie is complete. Enjoyed it, did you? Begging for more, are you? Wanting to flame me for writing such a horrible story, are you???  
  
Eh, two out of three ain't bad. ;)  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com (WRITE ME!!!!! pweese??) 


	20. What Action is Taken

Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Twenty  
  
A/N: WHOA! It's chapter twenty already, and I'm not even through Christmas yet! Hope the story's not getting tedious on y'all.  
  
Ms. Prongs: WOWIE, I have no words for you review. Even though you had quite a few, lol. I am so happy, eee, I feel loved! I'm glad you liked the George/Nancy/Harry thing, a few readers didn't. COUGH *crawler* COUGH. Yah, and feel totally free to email me, alls I get is spam and forwards that I delete, so it'll be fun! WHEE! Thanks a lot!  
  
Well, Christmas is here at last.. erm, at Hogwarts, anyhoo. Unfortunately, in my reality it's not even Thanksgiving yet, and I'm well ready for the holidays to come and take me away from Purgatory, AKA High School. Ugh, spare me.  
  
*author puts 'owning Harry Potter' on the top of her Christmas wish list. Santa comes down the chimney with a "Ho Ho Ho" on December 24th, creeps into author's bedroom, and presents her with an. ANVIL, which he promptly whacks her over the head with.*  
  
* * * * *  
  
Somehow, Hogwarts seemed to outdo itself each year for Christmas. Hagrid's pine trees were even bigger and needly-er than ever before, and tiny Professor Flitwick had performed many tricky decorating charms to adorn the trees with bubbles and lifelike snowflakes and flickering candles.  
  
Classes took on a beleaguered feel to them, desperate to just be finished already and get the holidays started. Of course, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were ready for classes to end for a different reason than just being able to lollygag around doing nothing all day. Harry wanted to track down Voldemort and defeat him.  
  
This was not an easy task, needless to say, and wasn't going to be done single-handedly. After reading that top-secret document about the Dark Lord, Harry was ready to walk right out of the castle and tackle the sinister wizard all alone. But Hermione and Ron, with their clear-headed thinking, held him back and used everything save the Body-Bind Curse to keep him inside the castle walls.  
  
"There's no way three teenage wizards can defeat the most powerful dark wizard ever to walk the earth, Harry, so just cool it." Ron chastised, grabbing Harry's elbow for the fiftieth time that night to prevent escape.  
  
Harry struggled against his friend's grip. "We can't just sit here doing nothing while Voldemort just gets stronger and stronger. Right now, he's harmless. If we could just get him now, before it's too late.. You saw the note. After this incubation period, he'll be 'invincible.' INVINCIBLE!!"  
  
"Shh!" Hermione shushed. "Number one, he's not just sitting out somewhere waiting for a bunch of snot-nosed Ministry Officials or whatnot to come and kill him, You-Know-Who's being guarded by a hoard of Death Eaters, hundreds, most likely. And Number Two, we're not just going to sit back and do nothing. But we're not going to go out and get ourselves killed either."  
  
"What else is there to do? Send him bad thoughts telepathically?" Harry asked sarcastically.  
  
"You and You-Know-Who are connected, Harry. Every time he's doing something particularly exerting, you feel it." Hermione stated.  
  
"He's not gonna be doing anything that'll register with me until it's too late." grumbled Harry.  
  
"You're right, he isn't. But the link you have is old magic, Harry, and there are ways to activate it beyond waiting for something from his end." explained Hermione.  
  
"What?" Ron breathed.  
  
"There are potions, incantations, spells. old and mostly forgotten, but I'm sure there'd be a book on it in the library." responded Hermione.  
  
"Probably in the restricted section." Ron pointed out.  
  
"Then we'll just have to get a pass from the headmaster." Hermione answered simply.  
  
"Dumbledore'd never let us do something like that. He'd put a stop to us immediately." Harry griped.  
  
Hermione turned and faced her morose friend. "Harry, every year we've done something behind Dumbledore's back. Every year we scheme and plan ways to defeat whatever evil is lurking about at that time. Well, don't you think that he knows everything that goes on in this school? Everything??"  
  
"Of course he does, it's actually quite unnerving, in a way." Ron replied with a shudder.  
  
"Well, I think it a bit narcissistic to assume that just because we aren't reprimanded that he doesn't know what we're up to." said Hermione.  
  
"You think he knows everything?" Ron whispered with fear, looking around as if little cameras or bugs were hiding within the common room walls. Well, if he had known what cameras or bugs were. "Even about our little escapade in Snape's office?"  
  
"I hope not." Harry said with foreboding.  
  
"It doesn't matter, we've done worse. For breaking into the off limits third floor corridor and cavorting around with dangerous spells and villains we earned three hundred some-odd points. Remember, in our first year? If we go about this right, we'll come out okay." Hermione indicated.  
  
"In order to go about it right we'll have to do a lot of covering up." Ron recommended.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "No. I think that Dumbledore would be happy to indulge us, actually. As long as we're frank with him about it, and tell him it's just to help out the ministry and not go chasing after You-Know- Who ourselves."  
  
"D'you think he knows about the incubation thingy?" inquired Ron.  
  
"There's no way to tell, and if he did it'd be top secret stuff. We're not supposed to know about it anyways." Harry answered.  
  
After a long bout of staring into the fire and thinking deeply from all three of them, Ron sighed. "Well, if we're to do anything, we'll need our rest. C'mon, it's getting late."  
  
Harry silently obliged, and walked up to his dormitory with a hunched posture like a great weight had been placed on his shoulders. "Poor guy." Hermione crooned.  
  
"You know we're not gonna be able to stop him from chasing after You- Know-Who, right?" Ron asked, half amused, half somber.  
  
"I know. I wish I could, though." she replied, watching Harry's retreating form that was too young to look like that, so slumped and worried.  
  
Ron put a supporting hand around his friends shoulder. "Ditto, 'Mione. Only too ditto."  
  
(^*^)  
  
That Monday during breakfast, Dumbledore made an announcement that Professor Callahan was getting better. "Miss Callahan has been feeling a bit under the weather as of late, but just last Sunday she was well enough to sit up in bed on her own and eat something. I'm pleased to report that she will be back teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts classes today."  
  
Excited whispers scurried throughout the crowd like the plague, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were too stunned to speak. Granted, they had known she was awake because of when Harry had gone to check on her and seen her sans clothing, but the fact that she would be back teaching everyone was startling. They knew now that she was a Death Eater. and now she had a whole class full of students to brainwash and turn into little versions of her and Snape.  
  
Of course, Harry was the most scared of all. Surely she would want to have a talk with him about the little Peeping Tom incident, and that was going to be deathly embarrassing. Was she going to bring up the subject of her Dark Mark? Harry was prepared to pretend like he hadn't seen anything beyond a naked person, but it might not be that simple. God knows what sort of mind-reading dark devices she would have tucked under her belt courtesy of Voldemort himself.  
  
That morning, as the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs trudged out to the Diggory Greenhouse, Harry was quite sullen. Even more sullen than Hermione, who had just discovered from the last grade report that she had only made a ninety-five percent on the test over the biting breed of Cecilplants. "I cannot believe I forgot to pack the soil around the roots tightly with my gloves on! I could have caused serious damage to the Cecilplant!" Hermione griped.  
  
"I think she should've given you extra points for that. I was wearing Charlie's super durability dragon-hide gloves and the little bastard still took off a bit of my index finger." replied Ron, nursing his still rather red and swollen finger.  
  
Harry didn't hear any of them though, he was too busy thinking up excuses to miss Defense Against the Dark Arts class the following morning. Sickness wouldn't work, Madame Pomfrey could cure anything lickety-split with a potion.  
  
He might be able to pull of breaking a bone, but since he'd already broken too many Madame Pomfrey might send him to therapy. Neville was already going through that, three times a week to strengthen his wrists which seemed to snap like twigs whenever he fell down.  
  
Accidentally consuming a wronged potion would probably be Harry's best bet. but then again, you'd never know what you'd end up with if you added your bezoar too soon. A Ravenclaw third-year had grown an alligator claw out of his head when he put in thirty-two porcupine quills instead of thirty. Harry had seen him being escorted to the office by Professor Dorkin, and the sight wasn't a pretty one.  
  
Finally, after deciding that sticking out whatever punishment Professor Callahan decided to dole out would be a lot less painful than afflicting himself with a surplus of appendages, Harry could focus on the task at hand: repotting hybrid Mandrakes.  
  
"Now, these Mandrakes are nothing like the ones you dealt with in your second year," Professor Sprout told the class magically, allowing them to hear her even though their sound-proof earmuffs were on. Harry remembered that experience very well, procuring Mandrakes to de-Petrify his friends that had been frozen by the Basilisk. And Tom Riddle. and the Chamber of Secrets. and Ginny Weasley's limp form lying on the cold stone floor.  
  
"These Mandrakes have been bred with Bubotuber Plants to fortify their healing qualities, making them more potent." Professor Sprout continued, interrupting Harry's horrifying nostalgia. With a quick jerk, the teacher ripped the ugly baby out of the earth while it silently screamed in protest. "You will note that they are slightly more greenish than pure Mandrakes, and ooze Bobotuber Pus out their pores." Indeed, the squealing rat clutched in Professor Sprout's hands was leaking a neon-yellowish liquid down its face and out its nose.  
  
"Eeew! That's gross!" Harry saw Parvati squeal. Nobody else could hear her, of course, but he could clearly read her lips.  
  
Professor Sprout then took out a small pinkish jar and held it under the Mandrake's chin, collecting a dollop of pus into the jar. "Your job today is to collect this Bobotuber Pus in specialized indestructible jars, careful not to spill any on yourselves, mind; and bring them up to me. Madame Pomfrey will me much obliged, even though it takes just a bit to heal someone her stock was running low. Now, you may begin."  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione worked around the same plant. Their Mandrake seemed to be a bit more grown than it's surrounding brothers, it's pimples were leaking pus all down its front and it was putting up a specially spectacular fight in both coming out and going back into it's pot.  
  
Of course, this excess fluid wasn't a hindrance at all; the group had filled a dozen jars in the time it took the other groups to do half that many. Professor Sprout beamed at them when they had to go up and ask for more jars, and awarded five points to Gryffindor for their excellent work.  
  
With all that excitement, Harry had completely forgotten his worries about Professor Callahan. Of course, after vigorously washing his hands under the Crystal Cleanser spout (a special sink that it's water can wash away even the most stubborn of gunk on your person), it all came flooding back to him twofold. He was so nervous he could hardly stomach his lunch, let alone fall asleep in History of Magic. Even Professor Binns' floating through the chalkboard didn't hold its usual awe for the distraught boy.  
  
In the common room that night, when he was supposed to be writing an essay on Bartholomew the Belligerent that was assigned that day, the only thing Harry could focus on was Professor Callahan.  
  
No, it wasn't about the whole getting-griped-out-for-seeing-her-naked thing, Harry had long made his peace with that. It was just, something wasn't adding up. Callahan had been so adamant about what would've happened if only someone would've stood up to the Dark Lord when he wasn't as strong.  
  
She could just be a good actress. You know, most Death Eaters are. that annoying little voice cooed.  
  
But that fire in her eyes, that desire for us not to make the same mistakes, it was so truthful.  
  
It only LOOKED truthful. She was probably just trying to get you to go out and get yourself killed.  
  
Ah, the little voice made sense once again, but still something was nagging at the back of Harry's brain, begging for not only Callahan's innocence, but Snape's also.  
  
Snape had long ago publicly dismissed his dark background and tried to begin a new life, but no one would let him. To great danger to himself, he had become a spy, leaking valuable information about Voldemort to the Ministry to try and prove himself. And still, he was shunned and misunderstood.  
  
That's just what he WANTS you to think. the little voice put in, before being silenced with a sharp "SHUT UP!" by Harry. And for once, the bloody voice let him alone.  
  
My, he was certainly getting good at shutting that snippet of his brain up, wasn't he?  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: Sorry so short, but I'm getting lazy. I've had quite a busy week. you know the drill, homework, evil History quizzes, oooo, and I went to see the school musical Les Miserables. It was amazing. I couldn't believe it. I bawled like a little girl. And it didn't hurt that my boyfriend was in it. welp, y'all prolly didn't want to know that, but I care not. NEH! *sticks out tongue*  
  
OH wait, no, don't be mad at me, I love you, I love you all! Review, review, for me, for me! I still adore you, I swear.  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com 


	21. Explanations of Long Ago

Harry Potter and the Rise of Lord Voldemort: Chapter Twenty-One  
  
A/N: Ah, the legal drinking age. twenty-one. Such a coveted number. Disregarded by most of my high school colleagues, but hey, apparently it is cool to go out and act like a drunken buffoon.  
  
Oh wait, they ARE drunken buffoons. How silly of me.  
  
*authoress goes out and gets drunk off her rocker, and begins rambling about owning Harry Potter. Her friends, even though they too are too drunk to know spit from shit, begin laughing uproariously in disbelief, and promptly barf their guts up. Even though they are smashed, they still know that it couldn't happen.* Okay, so I would never do that, but it just goes to show.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next morning Harry went about his usual routine; wake up twenty minutes late by the sound of Crookshank's daily squeal of protest in being trodden on, retrieve his wrinkled robes that he had worn the day before from a heap on the floor, and rush out the door just as Ron and Hermione were about to leave him behind. In fact, it wasn't until Harry had seen Professor Callahan at the staff table that he dropped his porridge all down his front.  
  
"Nghh, oh no no, not Callahan." Harry mumbled in fright, not taking notice of the burning sensation on his chest and legs.  
  
"Harry! What have you done!" Hermione shrieked in disgust.  
  
Harry jumped into the air, startled. "I DIDN'T MEAN TO SEE HER NAKED!!!!!!" he yelped in defense, thinking Hermione was reprimanding him for the Callahan fiasco.  
  
A few bewildered faces turned towards Harry, but Hermione handled it like a champ. "It's okay, he's just shocked. Walked in on me in the shower this morning." A few kids sniggered, and Fred and George, true to their form, cracked a few distasteful and perverted jokes, but somehow everyone believed that Harry should be rightly traumatized by walking in on Hermione during her shower. Which didn't make the girl too happy.  
  
"Here, shut up and eat your food." Hermione ordered gruffly, her anger showing in the way she jabbed her wand at Harry's robes in way of a cleansing spell. The muck leapt off so fast that not one spot was left on the black fabric; not even the old raspberry jam stain from third year.  
  
"Can't wait for Defense class today. It's about time we got an actual teacher around here, eh?" Seamus Finnigan asked aloud to his best friend, Dean Thomas.  
  
"Yeah, not to mention the fact that Mrs. Snott was beginning to be a pain in the arse. Thank God Callahan's coming back." Dean agreed.  
  
Parvati sniggered. "And I guess the fact that you have a little crush on her doesn't dampen things any, eh?"  
  
Dean gasped and his face turned a magnificent shade of burnt red. "Do not." he mumbled to his hands in defense. Resounding giggles erupted around the table at this.  
  
"Aww, got a little crushie-poo on a teacher, do we?" Lavender cooed.  
  
"It's nothing compared to what you and Patil have for Professor Trelawney!" Seamus shot back, defending his friend. There were ohhh's and ahhh's from the stinging comment, and Lavender flounced her hair in response, curtly taking a large bite of her toast.  
  
Ron was rather amused by the whole thing. Hermione was still looking slightly wounded from everyone's pity for Harry's walking in on her showering, and Harry couldn't string two sentences together for fear of the oncoming class. Which wasn't like him at all, but ever since they had uncovered that secret document he'd become rather unhinged.  
  
"I suppose we'd better get going." prodded Ron, nudging his two friends into a standing position. Grumbling, they followed their red-haired friend out the door and up the stairs, until finally they were stopped in front of the heavy wooden door.  
  
Harry sighed. "Guess this is it." With a shrug, he pushed the great door and it swung open with a squeak of foreboding, revealing the classroom behind it. Things looked much different; for one, there were large cages sitting atop each table shaking madly. And another thing, the smell was horrible, like burning plastic and month-old mayonnaise. But of course, these things flew right past Harry, and only one thing was registering in his mind: Professor Victoria Callahan was sitting at her desk at the head of the room, beckoning him inside.  
  
"Ron, Hermione, how nice to see you again, it's certainly been a while. And Harry. how interesting to see you once more. May I have a word with you?" the teacher greeted with false warmth.  
  
Harry gulped, throwing a last pleading look over his shoulder at his friends while approaching the desk. "Hello Professor. I-it's nice to see you well." Actually, she looked quite pale and there were dark circles under her eyes, but pointing those things out was not a way to get on the woman's good side.  
  
"Also probably nice to see me clothed, eh Harry?" Professor Callahan remarked with a smirk. It took Harry about three heart attacks to realize that she was joking.  
  
"Oh, erm. yeah, sure." Harry answered nervously. How was he supposed to respond to that?  
  
"Don't worry about that little incident in the hospital wing, it's a mistake anyone could make. Let's keep it our little secret, though. I wouldn't like it spread around the school that I'm giving peep shows to my students." advised the woman, chuckling a bit.  
  
Harry smiled. "No hard feelings?"  
  
"Nah, you're fine. Besides, I suppose it's payback for the fool I made of myself at the Three Broomsticks. I cannot apologize enough for that. It's just ever since Severus." she trailed off then, staring at her hands in her lap. Suddenly she whipped her head up, put on a happy face, and continued. "At any rate, there was no excuse for my behavior, and you have my sincerest regrets. Weasley, you will note that I have written full letters of apology to your family, including your sister-in-law, Ms. Crinkle."  
  
Ron whipped his head up at the mention of his name. "You didn't have to do that."  
  
"Yes, I did." Professor Callahan insisted firmly, and Ron nodded.  
  
"Thank-you anyways." he replied.  
  
By then, other students were streaming in the doors, and Harry was dismissed looking like he just exited the lavatory after a nine-hour nonstop road trip. "Feeling better, Har?" Ron chided with a smile.  
  
"Yeah, I guess that wasn't so bad." Harry conceded.  
  
"So bad?!" Hermione "So bad? She was downright casual about the whole affair, even joking about it. You're a lucky man, I didn't think she'd ever even speak to you again."  
  
"I'm just glad its over, and we can go back to being normal." answered Harry, taking a seat at a table with Neville and eyeing the quivering box warily. Ron and Hermione took the table next to him.  
  
"Welcome back, Professor Callahan!" Lavender welcomed cheerily.  
  
"Lavender Brown-noser." Ron whispered aside to Harry, and he snorted. Ah, things really were back to normal all right.  
  
That day's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was an especially interesting one; not only were there Subterranean Monisks (small, hedgehog- type creatures that laid their eggs underground in colorful shells that looked like gems so humans would pick them up), but Professor Callahan only assigned a one parchment essay instead of her usual five.  
  
"She's probably just trying to make it up to us, for being absent," Hermione suggested. "I mean, we've got loads of work to do, we're so behind, and she only told us to read chapters twelve through eighteen, when we should be beyond chapter thirty!"  
  
Ron shook his head. "Wait Hermione, I don't get it, are you complaining because we don't have homework?" She just shot him a huffy look and kept walking.  
  
With the most strenuous part of the day over with, Harry was content to relax and doze off in Divination. Unfortunately, Professor Trelawney was keeping an unnaturally keen eye on him and Ron during her class. "What's the old bird's problem today? Did her crystal ball tell her that she's a fraud?" Ron griped after getting reprimanded a third time for falling asleep.  
  
After class, the old woman called after Harry as he slinked out the door. "Potter! The spirits recommend some interesting things about you, boy." she commented. The two friends groaned simultaneously. Saying that the spirits recommended something was just Trelawney's way of conveying her personal opinion, but what was this gibberish about? What interesting things? Ron made a hand gesture saying that he would wait up for Harry, and that Professor Trelawney was something very rude indeed. With that, he was out the door and Harry was left alone in the cloudy room.  
  
"What have the spirits been saying about me this time?" Harry asked, sensing another death premonition coming on. But then again, a few years back the old woman did manage an accurate prediction. maybe this was for real. Odds were on the side of it being a crock of meaningless horse dung, but might as well hear the eccentric biddy out.  
  
Professor Trelawney steepled her fingers importantly and leaned back in her chair. Harry found himself exhaling harder to try and make her fall. "I was sitting in bed last night when a spirit came to me. It said that you require some guidance in the area of old connections, and it would be helpful of me to lend you Dr. Bernard Auery's series of books on medieval spell links. Does this ring a bell?"  
  
Harry suddenly became uneasy. Those books were exactly what he would need to tell him how to strengthen his bond with Voldemort. is it possible that Trelawney's "spirits" could've told her this? There is no way she would've known otherwise.  
  
"Ooer, thanks, yes, that IS true. I was very interested in the subject of. channels and links, between, erm, worlds and. stuff." Harry lied rather unconvincingly.  
  
The old bag nodded wisely. "Of course you are, and the spirits would like to help you on your quest for knowledge. Here, take these books and use them well. They are yours until end of term." She took out a large sack containing about ten large, musty books that looked like they hadn't been touched in ages.  
  
"Thank you very much, you truly are a wonder." Harry thanked, although this compliment might've been a touch too much. The professor eyed him warily, holding the sack just out of his reach, probably considering if her coveted "spirits" could be wrong or not. Her pride won over in the end though, and she presented her student with the heavy sack.  
  
"Use it well." she repeated pompously. Harry refrained from saying anything further, because it was sure to be bitingly cynical, and rushed out the door to a waiting Ron.  
  
"Bloody hell! D'you think she knows what we're up to?" asked Ron after Harry explained the whole thing on their way to the common room.  
  
"She'd have to, otherwise how would've she known that I needed books on that exact subject? It's not exactly a broad genre." Harry answered.  
  
"Will she get us in trouble for it?" Ron worried.  
  
Harry shook his head. "I don't think there's any rule against reading, but it gives me the willies nonetheless. How did she KNOW?!"  
  
"How did who know what?" Hermione asked. She was sitting in a large chair by the fire, legs crossed, petting Crookshanks lazily.  
  
"Professor Trelawney knew that we needed books on old magical connections." Ron explained.  
  
Hermione leaned forward, looking excited but not concerned. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah, she gave us all these books because 'the spirits' told her I was interested in this field." said Harry.  
  
"Well, that's marvelous! It's about time, I was going to have to take my wand to Gabrielle's painting." squealed Hermione.  
  
Ron stared at Hermione in disbelief. "Wha-huh? Number one, NO, that is NOT marvelous, and number two, who the hell is Gabrielle?"  
  
"It is marvelous because my plan finally worked. And Gabrielle is the angel in the painting in the first-floor girl's bathroom." Hermione explained slowly like she was talking to an invalid.  
  
"Oh, and that explains everything." Ron remarked sarcastically.  
  
Hermione let out an indignant 'humph' and turned towards Harry, ignoring Ron. "I asked Gabrielle to go to the painting above Professor Trelawney's bed and whisper to her in the night so she'd think it was one of her 'spirits.' Gabrielle was to say that she was a 'spirit' from the underworld, and that Harry Potter needed guidance in the areas of old curse links and such. She's been doing it for the past few days, but Trelawney didn't seem to take any of it in, so it I considered it a lost cause."  
  
"And you did this without telling us?" cried Ron in exasperation. "You had Harry and I scared to death, imagining that Trelawney could truly read minds and see the future and whatnot."  
  
"Oh, I could've sworn I told you, didn't I? At least mention it?" Hermione checked.  
  
Harry shook his head. "Nope, I would've remembered something like that. It's so risky, what if Trelawney found out we were trying to figure out how to communicate with Voldemort? I mean, she's thickheaded, but not that thickheaded."  
  
"Ah c'mon, that woman's such a fraud she's even got herself believing that she can see the future and hear spirits. If any of the other teachers ask why we have these books, we'll just say that the woman gave them to us and we didn't want to refuse. Easy as pie." Hermione answered with a shrug. She kneeled down by the bag and took out each of the books, stacking them on a table. The titles were slightly unnerving, "I Can See You: Who is Spying on Your Thoughts?" and "Things That Go Listening in the Night."  
  
"We'll sift through these later, but right now dinner's being served in the Great Hall. Let's head out, all." Hermione commanded expertly, and Harry and Ron tramped out the door behind her.  
  
(^*^)  
  
"I can't read Olde Englishe, who does Trelawney think I am? Robin Hood?" Ron griped as he attempted to read "Communicative Trances for Link Deciphering."  
  
"They're all like this though," Harry pointed out. "This Dr. Auery guy must be either really old or really dead by now."  
  
"Dead. In 1282 when he was trying to communicate with his partner Yonathan Wellings, Wellings was shot and pulled Auery through with him."  
  
Ron scrunched up his face. "His partner? Pulled him through? English, please, and make it up-to-date."  
  
Hermione sighed, displaying what a burden it must be to possess such lone genius. "Auery had a link, a mental segment, with Wellings. Kind of like you and You-Know-Who, Harry, except they were friends. While they were communicating telepathically with one another, Wellings was killed, and since their minds were linked, Auery was inadvertently pulled on to the Other Side with him. It happens like that with anything a person is experiencing when they have a link; their partner will automatically experience the same thing. Pain, sorrow, happiness, if your link is strong enough you can transfer anything."  
  
Harry winced; that couldn't be very pleasant. Auery wasn't even supposed to die yet, and just because he had some stupid link with a dead guy. "So that could happen to me?" he asked tentatively.  
  
Hermione pursed her lips and looked at the floor in pain, not replying but conveying her answer clearly. So it could. Harry could die if Voldemort. but wait! Voldemort couldn't die, so Harry wasn't in any danger. But what would happen if it were the other way around. what if Harry died while he and the Dark Lord had contact? Would Voldemort be defeated and finally cease to be, or would Harry have died in vain?  
  
Raising his head, Harry opened his mouth and was just about to ask Hermione that pressing question when he caught the look still lingering on her face from his previous question. She was clearly worried sick, and it pained her just to be aiding Harry in hurting himself. Slowly Harry closed his mouth and buried his nose in his book once more, not being able to read a word of it.  
  
If his link was strong enough. judging by the complicated exercises and spells in these books, strengthening the link wasn't an easy process, but it could be done. The link was classified as a level nine "Sparing" link, and defined as "when one wizard attempts to attack another, and the victim is protected by one of the Beauty's. The attack is reflected back upon its creator, and the victim is left unharmed. The attackor is then connected by a link to it's prey, connecting him forever to what he did to deserve this fate: he tried to destroy something so blessed and wonderful."  
  
Harry shuddered at the thought of being considered "blessed and wonderful." He had to look up the phrase "one of the Beauty's" and found out that there are three protective spells that the ancient ancestors of wizards cast in dire need: The Agape Spell, which conveyed a true, romantic love towards another, The Idoli Spell, which protected someone the witch or wizard loved and looked up to, such as a parent, and The Philos Spell, which used a parental love to guard a child. These spells were so coveted and beauteous, the purest and most primitive established since time began.  
  
This was all so mind-boggling, and it took Harry five minutes of staring into space before he got it sorted out. His mother - Lily Potter - cast the Philos spell on him, perhaps without her even knowing it, in the last moments of her life. Voldemort, when he tried to destroy Harry, was unable to because of this strong defensive magic. The Killing Curse was returned back upon himself, and he should've died. But the Dark Lord was hardly even human anymore, so much evil had overtaken his body, so he was just reduced to something less than alive, but mercifully more than dead. And then, as a result of Voldemort's trying to kill Harry, a link was established between the two of them, as a sort of punishment.  
  
But so many other things were left unanswered. Why had some of Voldemort's powers been transferred into Harry? Why hadn't he been able to touch him before, was that a result of the Philos spell? And what made him able to touch him now?  
  
Harry shuddered, remembering the chilly touch of the Dark Lord's bony finger across his jaw. And the wand thing. was that just a big coincidence, or was Harry's wand chosen for him because of the link?  
  
There were too many complicated questions, and their answers were nearly as intricate. Harry only hoped that someday, when he was old and reflective, he could look back and answer every single one of them without wincing in pain too often.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: WHEW, WHEW, and double WHEW! That was an exerting chapter! I made up all that sequence of events and the three Beauty spells and Harry and Voldemort's link and. whew! Was it up to par? Did I screw anything up too bad? I sure hope you enjoyed it, but even if you didn't, review me pweese! I'll love you forever!  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal  
  
HaloGal5@aol.com 


	22. Authors Farewell

Hey all! Tis I, the long lost authoress you're probably making voodoo dolls out of. Meh, I shouldn't flatter myself. Anyhoo, yah, sorry bout the non- updating phase I've been going through. I got burnt out on my stories, then I got a new comp and deleted all the unnecessary stuff so I could transfer my files, and the fanfiction folder got deleted! so I kinda said "ah, screw it" and never did anything about it. I dunno if I'm ever going to finish this thing, I had a WAY lot of good ideas but I found it too hard to carry them on. If anyone would like to *adopt* my story and make it their own, so the poor thing could get finished and rest in peace, then be my guest. Email me at (WARNING: this has changed!) DeviousHamster08@aol.com or IM me or whatever and we'll talk. Just coffee and some talk, no big whoop.  
  
hehe, extra points if you can tell me what that last sentence is from.  
  
anyhoo, so yah, email me if u wanna continue my story for me, b/c I'm kinda sorta sick of it. no offense, I just have the attention span of a hamster (note the screenname) and I get bored easily. sorry again, and I hope I haven't pissed anyone off.  
  
(and if I have, don't send me a virus or something)  
  
thanks bundles to all my reviewers!! I LOVE YOU AND SHALL MISS YOU ALL!!! keep in touch if you must, email, IMming, it's all gravy.  
  
and, in the wise words of Porky the Pig. bede bede bede bede That's All Folks!!!  
  
Love from,  
  
Saranimal 


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